Alphabet Injuries – SEAL Team
by missblueeyes63
Summary: Alphabet Injuries collection of pure Clay whump and brotherhood situations. Many chapters will be stand-alone stories for one letter of the alphabet, however, several stories cross multiple letters: H-I-J, K-L-M, N-O-P (N follows a separate story called Fading into Nothingness), and S-T-U.
1. Acid and Arrows

**Alphabet Injuries – SEAL Team**

* * *

 **Summary:** So by popular request, here is an Alphabet Injuries collection for Clay. As with my FlashPoint AI for Sam Braddock, each chapter will be a stand-alone story for one letter of the alphabet. Also, like FP, this can be interactive if you would like to send me suggestions for the letters.

 _I do not own SEAL Team or any of the characters from that series. I do own my original characters (OC) and original storylines._

* * *

 **Acid and Arrows**

* * *

 ** _Present  
Unknown Location, Unknown Time_**

Stumbling, disoriented, lights and colors playing havoc with his vision making everything distorted and surreal, Clay's breaths came in short pants. Fear continued to mix with confusion and drove him forward. The sticks, rocks, and foliage underfoot tore into bare feet, but he kept going. The thick, humid air, oppressive made breathing more difficult, yet an internal desire to survive propelled him onward.

A cry of pain wrenched from him, quickly silenced, as his left ankle twisted in a hole and his arm slammed into a tree trunk as he fell. The bark hungrily ate up his unprotected skin as he slid down, he reached out in an attempt to keep his face from smacking the dirt. Only partially successful, the impact not as forceful as it could've been, Clay rolled to his back and grabbed for his throbbing ankle.

Sunlight filtered through the heavy canopy of leaves above him, creating a kaleidoscope of colors which if he hadn't been so afraid and in agony, would've been beautiful. He rocked on his bare back as he clung to his abused ankle as he rode the downward crest of pain. Wild blue eyes with blown pupils darted around, trying to find a safe place to hide.

Finding none, Clay released his foot and rolled to his already scraped and bloody knees, hissing as one landed on a pointy rock. Clawing his way up using the tree to assist him to his feet, most of his weight supported by right leg, he panted with the effort. Alone, naked, injured, and scared out of his mind, Clay continued his flight, limping off … to where, from where … he didn't know.

* * *

 _ **Rollback Previous Afternoon**_  
 _ **Cataratas International Airport, Argentina – 1300 Hours**_

Sonny smirked as Clay slung a backpack over one shoulder. The kid, freshly shaven and dressed in a light blue polo shirt, khaki cargo shorts, and flip-flops appeared to be a typical rich American college student on spring break. "Well, now, Chad, don't you go getting lost on us," Sonny joked to cover his own unease over this mission.

After shooting Sonny a quick scowl, he turned his attention to Jason as the master chief approached him wearing a scowl of his own. Clay wished he didn't appear so young or there was another option for locating the missing college students.

"We'll be tracking your every move." Jason surveyed Clay. He didn't like this op, it put Clay in a risky position with no back up close at hand. Sure they would be around, but they couldn't be too near or whoever was abducting male university students would not go after Clay.

"Yeah, I know. Davis put GPS trackers in my bag, the shoes, and the waist of my boxers." Clay shifted the backpack.

"I still say we should implant one subdermally," Brock chimed in. "Like the microchips for dogs."

Lisa grinned. "I could do that."

"No way. You're all acting like I can't handle myself," Clay groused. Being the youngest member of the team and the rookie, set him up for all kinds of razzing. It bugged him to no end at times. _Not like I haven't lead teams before … I'm not a green SEAL._

Mandy strolled up and handed Clay a wallet. "Your ID and credit card. Just don't go wild. Your cover is Chad Davenport, a student at Harvard, your mother is Senator Davenport and your father is a leading neurosurgeon."

Shoving them in his hip pocket, Clay nodded. As he walked out the back of their plane to the waiting taxi, he reviewed in his head what he needed to do. Act like a carefree, rich kid out to have fun with Mom and Dad footing the bill. Though he looked young enough to pass for a college student, none of the rest of his cover story even remotely mirrored his own life.

They got pulled into this op when the local law enforcement turned a blind eye to four missing young men in the past month. One of whom happened to be Dexter Clovis, the twenty-year-old son of a high-ranking CIA operative. It remained unclear what happened to the four men, no ransom demands were ever presented.

After a brief investigation, they found it was a recent occurrence and no other men from any other countries had gone missing in this area in the past. Whoever was behind the abductions apparently targeted Americans only. So Clay would be bait, and the team would follow when he disappeared. Hopefully, they could locate the missing students … alive.

Ray placed his hand on Jason's back, noting the tense muscles. "He'll be okay."

Jason turned and eyed Ray. "This is the kid we're talking about. The weirdest shit happens to him. Hate letting him out of my sight."

From the back of the plane, Davis called out, "All three trackers transmitting."

Mandy turned to the rest of the team, "Cover has been set for each of you. Trent, Brock, you will be joining a singles tour group at the Iguazu Resort." She handed them their tickets.

Eyeing the photo of a bikini-clad woman on the ticket package given to Trent, Sonny groused, "Why don't I get to go with the hot, single women."

"Because you would be too distracted," Jason responded.

"Besides, they will be doing a trek into the jungle … and we know how much you loooove the jungle," Lisa teased as she kept her eyes on the monitor.

Mandy smiled as she handed documents to Jason, Ray, and Sonny. "You are businessmen taking a break from your meetings in Oberá to do some sightseeing of the Iguazu Falls."

"I don't have to wear a suit, do I?" Sonny had no desire to put on one in this hot, humid weather.

"No. What you're wearing is appropriate for your cover." Mandy shook her head. Sonny could be a handful, but secretly she liked him as much as she did all the guys. He kept things lively and lightened the mood with his unguarded comments.

* * *

 _ **Iguazu Bar, Argentina – 2100 Hours**_

Clay wandered up to the bar, ordered a beer, then turned and leaned on the counter as he scanned the mass of people in the only hopping night venue in the area. Most of the day he lounged at the pool and he did wander off to have a look at the Iguazu Falls, the largest waterfall system in the world. The Iguazu river delineated the border of the Argentine province of Misiones and the Brazilian state of Paraná.

So far, he chatted up anyone near him. With no idea how the abductees were targeted, he had no clue who might be friend or foe. Throughout the day, he noted each of the team at one point or another, but they gave him a wide berth and never approached him. Spying an open high-top table, he ambled over after receiving his beer. He settled on the stool and wished he was here with Stella. She would enjoy the area … the falls would be romantic like Niagara.

His mind took a small break as he allowed himself to think on Stella. When he returned home after the mission where he ended up with a kidney infection and a puncture wound, she had played nurse to him for several weeks. He wouldn't admit to any of the guys, but her attention was exactly what he needed and once well and fit for duty, he showed his appreciation by taking her to a fancy restaurant and then … well, an enjoyable night spent in bed together.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him from his reverie. He smiled at the dark-haired woman and launched into a conversation with her. A half hour later, Arcilla Ramirez tugged on his hand, wanting him to dance, and though inside he was reluctant, he only smiled and played along as if he was thoroughly enthralled by her.

Once on the dance floor, he did get into the moves, but his mind never stopped wondering if she might be involved. Being approached by a beautiful woman would be an easy way to target men. Alert for any signs of other watching, he spotted two bouncer-like men near the door. _Perhaps they work here._

When Arcilla excused herself, saying she needed to go to the ladies' room, Clay returned to the table to find his beer gone. He flagged down a waitress and ordered another one since he only had three sips out of the previous one.

Upon returning at the same time as his drink arrived, Arcilla smiled and reached for the beer. "Do you mind, I'm thirsty?"

"No. You want one?" Clay asked.

After taking a long drink, she shook her head and handed the mug to her mark. "Not a big beer drinker."

Clay noted the heavy coating of lipstick on the edge and pivoted the mug to drink from the other side. Vaguely he wondered if what he was doing might be considered cheating in Stella's eyes. _Nah, she would understand. Plus, it's not like I'm going to sleep with Arcilla. I'm just doing my job and trying to blend in like a tourist._

They sat talking for quite a long time while he sipped his beer. When he finished, she dragged him out on the dance floor again. Several minutes later, the ambient lighting dimmed, and bright, red, blue, green, and yellow ones pulsed at a sickening fast interval as a mirrored ball lowered.

Clay blinked, trying to maintain his equilibrium as he tilted to one side. Arcilla's face swam in front of his as the realization he had been drugged dawned on him. He lifted his head, scanning in the chaotic lighting for a glimpse of one of the guys. Not finding any, he began to sink to the floor as his ability to control his muscles waned.

Relief, brief and fleeting, surged when two sets of strong hands gripped his arms and hauled him up. Turning to the right, expecting to find Jason, dread replaced the prior feeling as the face of the man he noted by the door earlier sneered at him. He barely translated the man's words … it will be fun hunting you … before his head lolled forward and he knew no more.

Ray restrained Jason as he started to move forward. "Stop. Davis will track him. She has a good signal. We need to find out where they are taking Clay so we can hopefully rescue the others."

* * *

 ** _Outside Iguazu Bar, Argentina – 2300 Hours_**

Sonny watched Spenser being dragged to a van and tossed in the back. One man went to the driver's seat while the other and the woman Clay danced with climbed into the rear. "They put him in a black van. The license is covered in mud. I'm following."

"Hold. Don't get to close. Give them some space," Eric commanded though he didn't like the idea, so added, "don't lose him."

Trent and Brock disengaged from the people they were talking with outside as a cover for their observation positions. Each noted Jason and Ray striding out of the bar. They converged at the rented vehicles. Jason hopped into the front passenger seat and Ray barely closed the back door as Sonny put his foot on the gas. Brock slid into the driver's seat of the second car while Trent hurried around to the other side.

Two sedans held back, though both drivers wanted to catch up with the speeding van. As they lost sight of the van on the twisting road, Jason kept an eye on the mobile GPS tracker. All three blips centered together. "They are maintaining the same speed. They most likely don't suspect they are being followed," Jason voiced his hope.

"Fuck!" Jason exclaimed. "TOC, are you seeing the same thing?"

From the plane, Lisa responded, "Yeah, one of the trackers is still. It is the one in his backpack."

Sonny spotted an object in the road. "There. Son of a bitch. They threw it out. We need to decrease the distance."

Eric told them to maintain the gap as he observed over Davis' shoulder.

Shortly after the second tracker halted, Ray spied Clay's flip-flops in the roadway along with the kid's shirt and shorts. "What the hell. Are they stripping him?"

"I knew we should've implanted the kid," Brock said as he followed behind Sonny, both increasing their speed regardless of Blackburn's order to hold back.

When the last beacon stopped, Sonny romped on the gas pedal, a fraction of a second before Jason yelled, "Floor it. I'm not losing the kid."

Speeding down the access road to the falls, they approached the intersection of the main route 101. Coming to a halt, they scanned left and right, searching for signs of taillights, finding none. "Go left," Jason ordered Sonny, then said, "Brock, you take right."

The two cars split up and sped off in opposite directions. Each man's guts roiling because despite three trackers they no longer knew where Clay was … they lost him.

* * *

 _ **Present Day**_  
 _ **Somewhere in Iguazu National Park – 0700 Hours**_

His head heavy and throbbing, lifting it would be difficult so Clay remained still as he became aware of sounds around him … mostly silent, crickets, a crackling which might be a fire. He inhaled through his nose and the odor of wood burning filled him along with bacon and coffee.

As he shifted, he found his wrists bound behind him and his ankles likewise trussed up and connected to his hands by a length of rope. Most disconcerting, he was buck-assed naked, lying on his side in the dirt. He pried his eyes open and squinted when presented with daylight. _Where the hell am I?_

Blinking to focus, not easy, he espied five men in sleeping bags around the fire and the woman from last night squatting and turning bacon in a pan. Continuing his silent scan, he found several rifles leaning on tree trunks and two crossbows with a quiver of arrows hanging on a branch.

Arcilla peered up and her face morphed into a wicked smile. Her malevolent laugh sent a shiver of fear down Clay's spine. Gone was the amiable woman of last night and in her place a disturbing facsimile. _What the hell is going on?_

"You're awake," Arcilla said as she rose. She kicked one lump on her way over to Clay. "He's awake. Time to get up." She crouched in front of her prey. "I hope you are more fun than the last one. He was so … how do you say … soft and easy to catch."

"Untie me." Clay wrestled himself up to lean on the bark of a tree. From his new position, he caught sight of something which almost made him vomit. Hanging from a tree were the heads of four men. On another tree hung their headless bodies, riddled with arrows.

"I see you have found my trophies. You will join them soon enough." Arcilla stood and walked back to her spot, accepting a plate of food from the man she roused.

Clay breathed slow, assessing his options. He wondered where his clothes were … _hopefully close, so the team will locate me before I become one of Arcilla's trophies._

As one of the men moved towards him, he tensed as the deranged woman told the man to drug him. He fought the best he could, which was basically clamping his jaw shut since he was hogtied. Two men pried it open as another shoved a pill into his mouth and poured in water.

He tried to spit it out, but one hand pinched his nose shut while another covered his mouth. They told him to swallow or suffocate. Clay swallowed and they released their holds. Gasping for breath, he asked, "What did you give me?"

Arcilla laughed. "Something I concocted to send you on a trip. A few things really but the acid should make it fun to watch you."

Clay searched the woods around him. His mind going a mile a minute. _Anytime now, guys … barge right in … I found the poor souls we were searching for … I don't want to join them._

While his captors sat and ate breakfast, Clay desperately searched for a way out of this nightmare. When they weren't looking he began rubbing the rope holding his wrists on the rough bark, gouging his forearms with each stroke. _Calm, stay calm. Remember SERE training. Keep it together Spenser, your team will come to save you._

Fifteen minutes later, no discernable progress on the binding, Clay's world began shifting … the effects of the acid kicking in. Colors altered and spun making him nauseous. His heartbeat and body temperature increased. The part that scared him most … an intense anxiety overwhelmed him and he feared his impending death as he stared at the lifeless bodies of those hunted before him.

Clay renewed his efforts, uncaring he was making a bloody mess of his arms. When the twine snapped apart, he barely registered he had freed his hands. As he brought them in front of him, the dangling rope took the form of an anaconda. He scuttled back, attempting to move away, but the snake came with him.

A grain of lucidity allowed him to realized the anaconda was the rope hanging from his wrist. Moving quietly he slunk back into the foliage and unwrapped the line holding his ankles together. With one last glance back, noting the six remained unaware of his escape, Clay began to run … to where, from where, he didn't know … he only knew if he stayed here he would be dead.

* * *

 _ **Campsite in Iguazu National Park – 1200 Hours**_

"Holy hell," sounded from Jason as Sonny said, "Fuck," as all five men gaped at the mutilated bodies hanging in the trees.

Ray turned his gaze away. He had seen terrible things in his time in the military, but this was one of the worst. "The one on the left is Dexter. Poor kid."

Cerberus sniffed at a tree and alerted Brock. Moving forward, Brock took a knee. "Fresh blood. Someone worked really hard to break free." He held up a length of rough frayed twine covered in blood."

Jason strode over to Brock as his gut churning. This mission turning out not as planned. Not only did they lose Spenser, they found Dexter … dead. And although the remaining three heads were in a more advanced state of decay he would bet they were the other missing students.

"TOC, Bravo One. We located a campsite and the body of Dexter Clovis. Signs Bravo Six might've been here." He went on to describe what they found as his men searched the camp for any details which might help them.

Lisa swallowed the bile rising in her throat as photos of the deceased were sent to her from Trent. She bit the bottom of her lip when she thought about Clay ending up like them. _I should've implanted him with a tracker._

Jason signed off with TOC, after providing the coordinates so local authorities could deal with the bodies, anger roiled in him and he used it to focus on his effort … find Spenser … alive. "Brock, Cerb find his scent?"

Coming out of the brush, Brock said, "This way."

Exhausted after an entire night and half the day searching, each man's expression remained grim yet determined as they moved deeper into the forest. They kept their heads on a swivel, not knowing how many hostiles they might encounter and all took note Sonny had not made a single comment about all the ways the jungle might kill him.

* * *

 _ **Unknown Location, Unknown Time**_

His swollen ankle impeding his efforts to walk, Clay went from tree to tree for support. Still unsure where he was or what time it was, his world became a chaotic mess of hallucinations, of which he wasn't sure what was real or not. Anacondas slithered from every tree. Ants covered his legs. Arrows flew past his head.

Moving to the next tree, Clay misjudged the distance and instead of clasping the trunk he grabbed air and crashed to the floor of the forest. He lay there to catch his breath as pain washed through him. Part of him wanted to curl up and give up.

 _"Hey, none of that … get your ass up."_

Clay opened his eyes. "Brian?"

 _"Yeah. Now you heard me. Up."_

"I can't."

 _"I'm not gonna let you give up."_

"You told me before to let go … I'm letting go."

 _"The hell you are. That was different. You needed to let go of your past, let go of the grip your father had on you. Now you need to hang on. Your brothers are coming, but you have to save yourself until they get here. So haul your ass up."_

Clay reached for a tree, moved to his knees and pulled himself up. "Which way?" When Brian didn't answer him, Clay turned his head, and sadly Brian was gone again. "Quit fucking leaving me."

"Oh, I didn't leave you … you left me. Not nice."

Clay's blood froze in his veins upon hearing Arcilla's voice. He wondered if she was a hallucination like Brian, but the searing stab of pain as an arrow lodged in his ass and sent him to his knees told him she was real. _I'm a dead man._

Gunfire erupted around Clay as he clung to the rough bark, not wanting to fall backward and drive the arrow in deeper.

* * *

 _ **Iguazu National Park – 1300 Hours**_

Jason took aim and dispatched the woman who just shot Spenser with a crossbow arrow. She fell to the ground and he moved to eliminate the other five but found his men took out four and Cerberus had leapt on the fifth, sinking his teeth into the man's throat as the dog took his quarry down to the ground.

Brock called off Cerb and put a bullet between the gurgling's man's eyes to put him out of his misery, though part of him believed the asshole deserved a long painful death.

Jason rushed forward to Spenser. "Got you." The unfocused eyes and the way Clay pulled back worried Jason. "Hey, hey, it's me, Jason."

Clay tried to pull away. His fucking hallucinations wouldn't leave him alone.

Trent dropped to a knee. "His pupils are blown wide. He's drugged. Easy, Clay."

"Trent?"

"Yeah. Hold still. You have an arrow in your ass."

Clay twisted his head to peer at his backside. "Oh. It's real?"

As Brock and Cerb stood guard, unsure if any other sadistic hunters were present, Ray contacted TOC and informed them they located Spenser and needed medevac. Jason sat and with Sonny's help, positioned Clay's head in his lap. Sonny then stripped off his shirt and covered the kid when his body started shivering due most likely to shock.

Trent stabilized the metal bolt sticking out of Clay's glut, unwilling to extract it here, unsure if the bleeding would worsen. The object worked as a plug for the wound at the moment. "Any idea what you were given?" Trent asked.

"You came." Clay stared up at Jason.

"Always will. You are one of us. No brother left behind."

"Clay, I need to know. What did they give you?" Trent insisted.

Shifting his gaze to Trent, Clay racked his disorganized mind for the information required. "Acid … and don't know."

"When?"

Clay shook his head. "No clue." His fingers dug into Jason's arm. "Don't leave. Be real. Don't go. I'm scared."

Jason put a hand on Clay's forehead. "I'm real. Not leaving. You're safe now." His gaze met Trent's. "Drugs talking?"

"Yeah. Hallucinations, extreme anxiety, panic, disorientation, and paranoia are all associated with a bad acid trip. Not sure how long this will last." Trent began wrapping protective gauze around Clay's arms … they were torn up quite badly. Next, he splinted the swollen and bruised ankle, hoping it wasn't busted.

* * *

 ** _Next Day  
Hospital de Puerto Iguazu, Argentina – 1100 Hours_**

Ray nudged Jason. "He's waking."

Shifting and sitting up, Jason rubbed his eyes. The evac took them to a small Argentinian hospital in Puerto Iguazu where the team doctor met them and performed the necessary surgery to remove the arrow. Jason did a quick scan of his men, who all except him, sat on the floor of the bare-bones, red-bricked hospital room.

Once Clay woke, and they were certain the acid was out of his system, they planned to transport him via a rented mobile home Davis arranged so he could travel back to the plane lying down in a bit of comfort.

Jason stood and moved to the bed where Clay lay propped on his side. He grinned as blue eyes flickered open and the pupils were normal-sized. "Welcome back."

Taking a moment to orient himself, Clay peered up at Jason. "Real?"

"Yeah. What do you recall?" Jason asked.

The words stirred the rest to life and each rose, circling the bed, waiting for Clay to speak.

His mind hazy, Clay lifted an arm to rub his face and noticed the white gauze which covered it from wrist to elbow. He glanced at his other arm, finding it adorned in the same manner. Eyes moving back to Jason he said, "Should've let Davis implant the GPS device."

Sonny chuckled. "That can still be arranged."

"Arcilla is a psychopath. She hunted and killed Dexter and three others," Clay reported as images of the dead men invaded his thoughts. Visions he wouldn't soon forget. A fate he might've suffered if his brothers had not found him in time.

"We know. We located the camp with their bodies. Local authorities don't have any information on her specifically, but they suspect she may have been the perpetrator of a series of heinous crimes across Argentina over the past five years," Ray shared.

Clay shifted in his bed and he wondered how much he imagined and how much was real. "Did she shoot my …" He blushed as he noticed the smirks.

"Yeah. You had an arrow in your ass," Sonny supplied and chuckled as he tossed a blow up donut ring on the bed. "Think you'll be needing this."

Groaning, Clay realized he would be quite literally the butt of many jokes for a long time.

Misinterpreting the reason for the groan, four sets of eyes turned to Trent as Jason said, "Give him something for the pain, we have a long ride to the plane. I want to get the hell out of here as soon as possible."

Clay ventured to ask, "How'd you find me?"

Brock grinned. "Cerberus. Once he got your scent off your boxers nothing would stop him."

Another embarrassing thought returned. He was found buck-assed naked. "You bring me clothes?"

"Nah, you look too pretty in a gown," Sonny teased.

It took a lot of effort, but Clay flung the pillow under his head at Sonny and hit his target's face, causing the rest to chuckle.

Jason lifted a bag off the floor. "We got ya covered. Sweats and a t-shirt." He turned to the guys. "Clear out. I'll help him dress."

Once they were alone, Clay started to pull himself up, planning on standing since sitting was out of the question.

"Whoa, no standing. You have a sprained ankle too." Jason gently pushed the kid back down, then bent and retrieved the pillow from the floor, placing it behind Clay's head.

Staring down he found his left ankle in a brace. "Well, shit. Abducted by Arcilla, bad acid trip, abraded arms, arrow in my ass, and a sprained ankle. Think I'm done with As."

Jason chuckled. "I agree."

.

* * *

AN: An thus is the first of 26 installments. Next up B. Send me any suggestions for the letters b, c, d ... I'm going alphabetically so my muse will only concentrate on about 3 letters at a time. If I use your suggestion, I will give you a shout-out at the end of the chapter.

In other news ... **SECRETS Passion, Deceit, and Revenge is now available on Amazon.** It is the 8th in the Beauty of Life series which chronicles Dan Broderick's complex and danger-filled life. Dan is the son of the Special Forces General, and he is an ex-Special Forces sniper who leaves the military after killing his best friend in a friendly fire incident. Dan joins Toronto's elite SWAT team, the Tactical Response Force as a sniper. The novels all build on one another, so starting with Book 1, FORSAKEN, is recommended.

 **To find them ... search for LAURA ACTON in Kindle books on Amazon. Oh, and if you subscribe to their Kindle Unlimited all 8 books are part of that service and can be read for free.**


	2. Brotherhood and Bravery

**Brotherhood and Bravery**

* * *

 _ **Ballfield on Base**_

Bottom of the ninth, down two points from Alpha, Clay approached the batter's box with a grin. Although Barry had a wicked curveball, a member of Alpha's support team who had been scouted by the Braves when he played baseball in college, Clay was confident he could handle it and score the winning run. With Brock on second and Ray on first, he needed to hit the ball outta the park.

Clay positioned himself, eyed Barry, and prepared. This was his first time at the annual Alpha-Bravo family barbeque. A strange affair since most teams didn't interact with one another except on missions. But, Bravo and Alpha worked together on many ops, and got along well … unlike with Charlie. Hayes and Fuller didn't mix so a picnic with Charlie would likely end in a brawl.

So far, this afternoon had been fun. He brought a keg of beer as Davis suggested and indeed it did cancel out the remaining cases he racked up for all the 'firsts' of being the team rookie, one of which was a case for coming to this event. Although he told Garrett before the draft he hadn't thought about which team he wanted, he lied … Bravo was his only desire.

He enjoyed hanging out with everyone … though he hated to admit, Adam had been right … the team was quickly becoming his family. Naima made a delicious blueberry pie to go with the burgers, baked beans, and brews on today's menu. Leaving hungry would not be an option with the amount of food everyone brought.

Clay put away his thoughts and focused on the pitcher. He resisted swinging at the first pitch, which was a little outside the box. Ball one was quickly followed by ball two and three. It appeared Barry was tired, or it perhaps the injury he received to the bursa in his shoulder on their last combined op was giving Barry trouble. Setting up for the fourth pitch, Clay grinned hearing all the cheering of Bravo behind him … Stella being his loudest supporter as Barry let the baseball fly.

Blinking, it took a moment for Clay to orient himself. A cacophony of sounds rushed in as did pain on the left side of his face. He lifted a hand to his stinging cheek and eye. Blurry images came through his watery eye while crisp ones registered in his right one.

Jason knelt next to Stella, both reaching Spenser only moments after he hit the dirt. He waved three fingers in front of Clay. "How many fingers?"

"Three." Clay started to push himself up, gathering he had been struck by the fastball though he had attempted to move out of the way.

Barry stood off to the side appearing concerned. "Sorry, dude. The ball got away from me. Didn't mean to bean ya."

"Are you alright?" Stella asked, her expression filled with concern.

"Yeah, I'm good." Clay rose, taking Jason's offered hand, then brushed off the dust from his shorts. His left eye continued to water and hurt, but he wiped it and chose to present his tough guy persona in front of all the guys.

Adam, who acted as a ref for the game roved over him with an assessing eye. "Take your base."

"Nah, I'll bat." He glanced at Davis, who was up next to bat, and he didn't want her anywhere near the batter's box if Barry couldn't control where he was throwing his balls.

Jason shook his head. Whether Clay said anything or not, they all knew getting beaned with one of Barry's fastballs hurt like hell. "Nope take first."

Derek, Alpha's second in command, patted Barry's back. "Go ice your shoulder. I'll take over as pitcher."

When Barry nodded, Clay complied with Jason's bidding and headed for first base.

Bases loaded, Lisa readied to hit. Her grip on the bat firm she held it over her right shoulder. She swung, connected, and a huge grin plastered her face as she dashed for first base, then second, third, and slid into home base ensuring Bravo's win over Alpha … seven to five.

She laughed as Sonny smothered her in a bear hug … he could forget his strength at times. The boisterous Bravo team began celebrating their win by cracking open more beers though no one got more than one drink before phones of all team members started buzzing and ringing with text messages. In the span of half a minute, loved ones were bid goodbye, and several men hitched rides so they could leave the vehicles for their wives or girlfriends to get home.

Stella sighed watching Clay jog to Jason's truck as she held the keys to his car. She realized her life would never be the same again. Even a barbeque on a lazy Sunday afternoon could be interrupted, and her boyfriend could be called away for some dangerous mission, and she might never see him again.

* * *

 _ **Team Room**_

Clay lowered himself into a chair at the back of the table and strove not to touch his aching eye. Part of him wanted to ice it, but now was not the time, he needed to focus on whatever mission they had been spun up for.

Davis dropped a cold pack on the table in front of Clay as she moved to her place. "You're gonna need to see out of that eye, so ice it now."

Still surprised how Davis consistently had what they needed when they needed it. Thinking their logistics specialist must possess some sixth sense Clay eschewed picking it up, not wanting to appear needy.

"Gonna be a beauty of a black eye there, kid," Sonny chimed in from his seat mid-way to the front of the room.

The comment drew the attention of his master chief who stared at him, the message clear in his gaze. Reluctantly, Clay picked up the instant ice pack and held it to his eye. Luckily that seemed to appease Hayes, and everyone's focus turned to Ellis as she began the briefing.

"Sorry to ruin your day, boys, but we received word a group of modern-day pirates led by August Baxter—"

"Isn't that the guy who is responsible for hi-jacking an oil tanker in the Gulf of Mexico?" Ray asked.

"Yes, the same. He got away and is now targeting an offshore drilling rig in Brazil. The rig," Mandy flashed up a photo on the screen, "is owned by the American company Biopetrol who recently won the deepwater drilling rights in some of the richest oil fields of the Western Hemisphere.

"The company has a skeleton crew on board, ten men. Biopetrol's CEO received a demand for twenty-five million dollars from Baxter indicating he will blow up the platform along with the riggers. According to Biopetrol, that specific rig possesses the potential of producing five billion barrels.

"Biopetrol has considered paying, but with Baxter's reputation, they believe even if they pay the ransom, he will still blow it up."

"So we need to go in there, save the hostages and stop Baxter from creating an ecological disaster," Jason said.

"You got it," Blackburn responded. "Courtesy of Biopetrol, we have full schematics of their rig, and the engineers have determined the most vulnerable locations for explosives.

Both teams delved into a planning session as Davis supplied them with current satellite imagery of the drilling rig. The number of hostiles remained uncertain, so they planned a two-pronged approach. Alpha team would focus on rescuing the ten hostages and getting them off the rig as fast as possible, while Bravo team dealt with the hostiles and searched for explosives. Their support teams would wait close by ready to swoop in to extract everyone in inflatable boats.

Along with the twelve Tier One operators and the support teams, they would bring along three straps, all explosive ordnance disposal technicians to diffuse any explosive devices. They would fly to Rio De Janeiro, catch a ride in helicopters to the USS Buckley, take rubber raiding crafts halfway to Biopetrol's rig, then swim the remainder of the way keeping their approach stealthy.

As they left the team room, Sonny chuckled as he said to Clay, "Case of beer for first time swimming."

Clay only shook his head. "Been swimming lots of times."

"Not with us," Brock said.

"What's his count now?" Ray asked.

"Well, that would be one since he brought a keg to the barbeque," Jason replied.

"Hey, hey, he owes one for the first time getting a black eye too," Sonny quipped.

"And one for the first time he tried Naima's blueberry pie," Ray added.

"Another for my baked beans." Trent got in on the fun.

They rattled off more firsts, the first time in the South Atlantic Ocean, in Brazil, in Rio De Janeiro, on a destroyer, and the list continued to grow. By the time they headed for the plane, Spenser was up to twelve more cases.

"So much for the keg keeping me from going broke," Clay muttered to the laughter of his teammates.

* * *

 _ **South Atlantic Ocean – USS Buckley**_

Both teams suited up and checked their scuba gear. As Clay pulled his mask over his face and settled it into place, he winced at the pressure on his bruised cheek.

Trent eyed him carefully and asked, "Swelling isn't inhibiting your seal, is it?"

"No," Clay answered truthfully, having learned from their mission to grab Nazeri that he needed to be honest. He refused to put the op or his team in jeopardy again. If he were not fit to go, he would tell Jason. Trent had hovered a bit on the flight, checking his eye several times to make sure there were no signs of delayed concussion or vision problems. Besides the tenderness and swelling, which he could handle, he experienced no side effects.

He spied Davis handing Sonny something. "What's that?"

Ray chuckled. "Sonny's anti-shark device."

"His what?" Clay asked.

"He fears swimming almost as much as the jungle," Trent teased Sonny.

"He's scared of swimming?" Clay gazed at Quinn with an incredulous expression.

"Not afraid," Sonny groused as the others chuckled. He added, "Another case of beer for the rookie."

"Why?" Clay inquired wondering what was left as a first for this mission.

"First time in shark-infested waters." Sonny grinned as he clamped on his magnetic shark repellent wristband.

"Great, nothing like owing thirteen cases before an op. Nothing can go wrong with that number," Clay said under his breath.

Jason overheard and shook his head. "Kid owes another case for being superstitious."

Clay gaped at Hayes, then smiled. That was one case he wouldn't mind buying. "Even fourteen."

Patting his rookie's shoulder, Jason said, "Got your back, kid."

All chatter ceased as they boarded the rubber assault crafts which would take them to the location where they would begin their long swim to the oil rig.

In the TOC room set up on the destroyer, Davis crossed off Blue from the mission board. Next up would be Hammerhead when they arrived at the target. She grinned as she recalled Sonny's slight shuddered as they named the steps of the operation for all the possible sharks in the region.

* * *

 _ **Biopetrol Oil Platform**_

Coming up from the depths under cover of the platform the team waited for comms to relink then Jason spoke in a soft tone, "TOC, Bravo One, Hammerhead. Any update on the number of hostiles we're facing?"

Blackburn relayed, "Five hostiles seen on the main platform. Two on the helo pad. No sign of the hostages."

"Copy," Jason signed off.

Fifteen men began their climb up the framework on opposite sides. Upon reaching the top, they concealed themselves and prepared for the assault. Jason paired with Clay, Ray with Trent, Sonny with Brock, and each had an EOD strap with them.

Moving stealthily they went in different directions to neutralize the pirates and investigate the most likely locations of explosives while Alpha headed towards the three-story tower where they believed the hostages would likely be held.

With suppressors attached to their assault rifles, Clay and Jason moved towards two men as Davis guided each team to targets. Clay dropped one man with a clean shot and Jason the second, neither pirate managed to fire their weapons, so they maintained a quiet upper hand for the moment.

The silence didn't last long as Sonny and Brock engaged three and took return fire. Dozens of armed men spilled out of the tower building on each of the three levels, more than any of them had honestly expected. An intense firefight started as Alpha team breached the building's interior and began searching for the hostages.

After six minutes and plowing through five men, Ray and Trent made it to the landing pad with their technician. Ray took up a sniper position, providing overwatch for the others while Trent and their EOD tech searched for explosives. Ray picked off two sneaking up on the backside of Jason.

Jason and Clay heard the thuds near them and pivoted, spotting two bodies laid out on the metal grating not far behind them. Both moved to protect Senior EOD Technician Bob Baily.

"Bravo One, I don't have a clear shot on a third to your northeast," Ray called out.

"Copy." Jason glanced at Spenser.

"Got it, Boss." Clay ducked around a pylon preparing to cover their six as Jason and Bailey continued to a suspected location of an explosive. If one existed on the main pipe and it exploded, the structure would experience successive blasts, be crippled, and likely collapse into the ocean.

The one man turned into four, who quickly drew two more, so Clay laid down cover fire as Jason moved Bailey to a more secure position. Although Bailey was armed and capable of firing, his primary purpose was to diffuse the explosives, and as such, they needed him alive.

Taking out three of six, Clay watched as one more dropped, most likely due to Ray. Spenser shifted positions to deal with the remaining two.

As they moved, Bailey tapped Hayes on the shoulder and pointed. "Found the bomb."

"TOC, Bravo One. Explosive device located on the central pipeline."

Sonny reported, "TOC, Bravo Three. Likewise. Strap Three indicates enough C-4 to wipe out the whole south structure."

Grimacing as he stared at the massive bomb, Trent conveyed, "TOC, Bravo Four. One found on the helo pad as well."

* * *

 _ **TOC Onboard USS Buckley**_

Blackburn turned to Ellis. "Something doesn't feel right. Too many men to for Baxter to evacuate and the bombs …"

Mandy's head shook slowly back and forth as she considered the possibilities.

"I'm thinking some sort of setup." Davis glanced at them before returning her gaze to the monitor. "Bravo Two, ten more converging on Bravo One's location."

Mandy paced as she thought. "You're right. Too many."

"What do we know about Biopetrol?"

"Not as much as I should." Mandy pulled out her phone, and as she dialed, the CIA agent added, "I'll rectify that now."

* * *

 _ **Biopetrol Oil Platform**_

Clay took out three more hostiles, providing cover for Jason and Bailey. A barge of bullet began hitting metal all around him and Clay dove for cover. A burning sensation streaked across his left bicep. He ignored the pain as he poked his rifle around the corner and fired several more shots.

Ducking back, he switched out his clip. "Bravo Two, Bravo Six, I'm pinned. Do you have targets in sight?" He moved to the other side and picked off another man before he could fire at him.

"Negative. No joy. No joy." Ray shifted. He couldn't change positions, needing to provide overwatch for Trent and the tech as well as for Sonny's team.

"I need to get to higher ground," Clay said.

"Bravo Six, TOC. There is rigging to your right. If Bravo Two can lay down cover you can gain height," Davis reported as she watched and prayed the boys made it out of this one alive.

"Copy," Both Clay and Ray said.

"On my mark, three, two, one, go," Ray ordered, and he opened up on the area between the kid and at least twelve hostiles.

Clay sprinted, glad his shoes didn't slip on the water-soaked metal. He reached the skeleton rigging and began to climb. His arm throbbed, but again he couldn't waste time thinking about the pain … adrenaline helped a lot.

Gaining a position, he linked one leg around the gridwork and stabilized his rifle. Now that he could see them and he was somewhat protected by the girding, he began picking off hostiles. Like shooting fish in a barrel.

Alpha One's report sent a damper through all the men. "Hostages located. All ten dead. Shot execution-style. By the looks of things, they've been dead for at least a day."

The frantic voice of Strap Three shouting, "Outta the building now. Now!" followed in the next moment by a blast which shook the platform caused everyone to turn.

"Bravo Three, Alpha One, status!" Jason called out.

Picked up and thrown by the concussive wave, Sonny slammed into a pipe bringing his body to a dead stop. His body fell limply on onto the grating with his left sleeve on fire.

Brock, who had been shielded in his position as he guarded Sonny and their strap, rushed toward his buddy. Witnessing the young EOD's dismembered body parts land in various places turned Brock's stomach. There was nothing to do for him, but Quinn might still be alive.

Taking a knee, Brock used his gloved hands to pat out the flames before using his teeth to tear off one glove, reaching out hoping to find a pulse as he peered down at Sonny's still form. "Bravo Three down, but he's got a pulse. Strap Three KIA."

As bullets began to fly around him, Brock seized Quinn's vest at the shoulder and dragged him to cover.

Unable to make it to doors, Alpha team took the only exit available to them. They jumped out of windows, the explosive debris following them all the way to the ocean. Alpha One knocked unconscious, Derek took over as he took stock of his men. "TOC, Bravo One. Alpha Two. All accounted for, but Alpha One down. Others with minor injuries. In the water."

Blackburn got on the comms, "Boats six mics out."

"TOC, be advised, explosive on helo pad diffused," Trent said then glanced at Ray. Getting the nod of approval, Trent moved off.

"Bravo Five, Bravo Four is on his way to your position," Ray informed Brock.

The explosion rattled the pirates as they dove for cover from the debris flung from the building. They all expected to be off the platform before anything blew up. The lead man outside tried to raise Baxter on his walkie-talkie, to no avail. Assuming he was dead, he called for their escape boats to come to pick them up, but he got no response before a bullet silenced him forever.

* * *

 _ **TOC Onboard USS Buckley**_

Fuming at herself, Mandy reported to Blackburn. "Get the guys off that platform now. The agency pressed hard and discovered the Biopetrol representative was accused of bribing Brazilian officials to obtain the winning bid. The company would lose the earnest monies and the contracts.

"It appears the CFO arranged for this little scenario. The rig is insured, and if it is blown up in the act of piracy or terrorism, they will recoup all the funds paid out so far, plus more. It is unclear who all is involved, but this is clearly a setup for financial gain." Mandy shifted her gaze to the monitors, her gut seizing.

"All call signs, abort, abort, abort. Get off that rig now. Get the boats to them." Blackburn ordered, overlapping Hayes' voice commanding, "Dive, dive, dive!"

Not more than sixty seconds later, Eric, Mandy, and Lisa all viewed what could only be a significant blast of the central pipeline.

* * *

 _ **Biopetrol Oil Platform**_

As Ellis was speaking to Blackburn on the ship, Bailey turned to Hayes with widening eyes. "Can't defuse this. We need to move!"

Not needing to be told twice, trusting the EOD technician, Jason shouted at his men to dive off the rig. He grabbed Baily and pushed him in front of him, moving swiftly to the edge of the platform. Jason ensured his strap jumped and turned to where Spenser should be. He refused to bail until the kid reached him.

Ray pushed Strap Two to the platform's edge. "Feet first. Then swim as fast as you can." He glanced in Jason's direction and followed his gaze to the rigging, and he noted the kid was dangling upside down and tugging on something. His peripheral vision caught Jason's body jerking backward and dropping to the ground.

"Bravo One is down!" He started for Jason worried his friend might have just died and not willing to leave him here regardless.

Using his knife, Clay slashed at the rifle strap which tangled in the rigging as he moved to comply with Jason's order. He fell six feet, slamming into the unforgiving surface on his back as Ray called out. Gaining his feet, and closer than Ray, Clay sprinted for his boss' position as bullets pinged metal around him as he shouted, "I got him."

When Clay reached Jason and lifted him, Ray adjusted his direction, heading for the side of the rig too. Their rookie had Jace. It was time to get the hell off this thing. As he jumped, he sighted where Jason's body would likely land and when his head resurfaced after plunging into the ocean he began swimming.

Clay made it to the edge. Realizing from this height he might lose his grip on Jason when they hit the water, he knelt and used his blade to cut Jason's strap. With rapid motions, he tied their vests together with the length of cording.

With brute force, he somehow picked up Hayes and held him to his chest, although his shoulder screamed bloody murder at him. In the back of his mind, Clay registered he must've broken a bone in his drop, but that didn't matter at the moment. Getting their butts off this deathtrap in one piece before it went boom was his primary objective.

As Clay prepared to jump two things happened. One his thigh erupted in searing pain. Two, an explosion blew him off his feet, propelling him outward away from the rig. Heat seared the back of his legs for only a moment before he was struggling to kick up to the surface, towing Jason up with him.

Secondary and tertiary explosions sounded as the entire platform groaned and erupted in flames. Doing his best to swim away from the wreckage, which seemed ineffectual, unsure if it would come toppling down on him, Clay held Jason's face above the water as he used one arm to paddle away.

Ray arrived at Spenser and reached for Jason. "I'll take him."

"Tied to me," Clay managed to say, his strength waning.

"Got you both then. Let's keep moving." Ray grasped the back of Jason's vest and pulled him along with Clay trailing. Several minutes later, when his unconscious friend's weight seemed to increase, he turned and found Clay face down in the water.

Flipping Clay over, Ray could only tread water, holding his two unconscious teammates. He didn't have a free hand to call for help, and he wondered if the others made it off the oil rig before it blew. He had no clue how long he kept all three of them afloat, but the distant sound of outboard motors was welcome.

He determined if he slipped his hand around the strap holding his brothers together, he could reach his rescue beacon to engage the locator. Repositioning them, he did so, then managed to turn on Clay's and Jason's so TOC would see their signals also.

* * *

 _ **TOC Onboard USS Buckley**_

Blackburn turned to the ship's commander. "We need your birds in the air now and your medical crew standing by."

The heat and smoke from the burning platform impeding the visibility of the drone overhead, Davis noted the assigned signals denoting each DEVGRU member as blips began appearing on her other screen. "Locaters active. I have beacons. All Alpha. Bravo Three, Four, and Five. Strap One and Two." She bit her lip, waiting. _Come on, boys, turn on your locators._

Mandy tapped the screen. "There. Who is that?"

"Bravo Two." As another blip lit, Lisa smiled. "Bravo One." When no other beacons lit a pall cast over the three.

"He took a fall from that tower. Bravo Six's could be damaged," Eric said giving voice to their hopes.

* * *

 _ **South Atlantic Ocean – North of Platform**_

Water splashing his face roused Jason. He groaned as he attempted to take a breath. His eyes stung as they opened.

"Jace? Jason, you with me?" Ray asked hearing a groan.

Disoriented, his mind trying to put the pieces together … he was standing and peering at Spenser … then nothing … now … water. _I'm in the water._ "Clay?" came out in a whisper and he inhaled water as another wave crashed over their heads. He coughed several times, sending ripples of pain through his chest.

"Right next to ya." Relief surged through Ray as Jason spoke to him. "Where do you hurt?"

"Chest … head." His thinking clearing a bit he asked, "Others?"

"No idea."

"How'd I …" he lost his breath and coughed, hissing in pain, recognizing he probably sported at least one broken rib, if not more.

"The kid. Damnedest thing I've seen him do. Sprinted like the wind to you after falling six feet. Tied you to him before jumping or getting blown off … not sure which, I was in the water by then."

Realizing now that Clay remained quiet, Jason turned his head. His blurred vision took in the closed eyes of the rookie. "He injured?"

"Unsure how, but yeah. He was conscious when I reached you both. He slipped off as we were swimming away from the rig. Almost didn't realize. Turned around and he was face down."

"Tried coms?"

"No hands," Ray stated the obvious and realized Jason was more rattled than he'd seen him before. He must've hit his head hard when he went down.

Reaching up to his coms unit Jason pressed it. "TOC," his words interrupted by coughing, "Bravo One."

"Damned glad to hear your voice, One. Helos and boats inbound to your positions," Eric shared.

"Did everyone make it off?" Jason tried to breathe deeper, but pain burned with each lungful.

Eric raked a hand through his hair, hating to be the bearer of bad news. He blew out a breath and said, "Locators on for all but Bravo Six."

"Kid's with Ray and me. Injury unclear, but he's unconscious."

A huge smile broke out on Eric's face. "Copy. Shouldn't be much longer before we have you out of the water."

"Other survivors … hostiles?"

"Unknown. Support teams will do search and rescue."

* * *

 _ **South Atlantic Ocean – South of Platform**_

Brock held Sonny, giving Trent a break. They shared a glance, both relieved their other teammates had not been blown to bits. His good mood soured in the next instant. "Shark." He pointed to the tell-tale dorsal fin.

Trent pressed his comms button. "Boats would be good now. Sharks in the water. Must've smelled blood." He prepared to fire if need be.

"Guess Sonny's shark bracelet is bogus," Brock said as he shifted Quinn in his arms so he could grab his gun too.

Trent and the remainder of Alpha team surrounded Brock who held Sonny and Derek who held the also unconscious leader of Alpha. Visual of two boats arriving sent everyone into action. The injured were hauled in first then the others pulled themselves in.

* * *

 _ **USS Buckley – Mess**_

The organized chaos which greeted them returning to the destroyer well over an hour ago left three of Bravo team in uncertain territory and three others worried and pacing in the mess. They had changed into dry clothing when Davis dropped their go bags off, and each sipped coffee, but Ray, Trent, and Brock wanted updates on Jason, Sonny, and Clay.

Having ignored the doctors, Jason made his way to the ship's mess where the remainder of his men were located. Eric trailed behind him, the doc calling for his CO in an attempt to keep him in bed, not realizing Eric would side with his need to reassure the others. The infirmary too small to accommodate them waiting they had all been relegated here.

Halting at the entry, he spied Derek first. He moved to Alpha Two and said, "John woke. He is concussed, but the doctor says he has one hell of a thick skull."

Derek blew out a held breath. "Thanks for the info." He strode over to his team to relay the details.

His movements slow with one arm around his torso, Jason moved to his guys who stood near where Davis and Ellis sat. He lowered himself into a chair and answered the question in their gazes. "I'm fine. Bruised, not broken ribs." He breathed in and clenched a fist at the pain. _Sure the hell feels like broken though._ "No concussion." He left off he had not told the doctor how long he was out, mostly because he didn't know and he omitted the bruised lung, categorizing it as 'need to know,' and they didn't because it would heal before his team would be sent on another mission.

"What I know so far is Quinn's got a concussion, a couple of busted ribs, and a second degree burn on his forearm. He woke briefly and recognized me, so he's gonna be okay with a little rest." Winded, Jason took a moment to catch his breath.

"And the kid?" Trent asked. He was miffed they wouldn't allow him to be with Clay and Sonny. He knew his teammates better than any doctor, but he complied and sat this one out because they were US Navy doctors and the sickbay had been filled with injured.

Three Bravo and one Alpha team members with significant injuries, four Alpha men with minor ones from their leap out the windows. Strap Two suffered a shark bite to his leg … luckily, he would not lose it. Bailey saved his buddy, shooting the bull shark, and the boats arrived before the feeding frenzy began. Said shark feast took the lives of six of the hostiles and five more were rescued with various bites and missing limbs.

Lisa pushed a coffee towards Hayes. The master chief had seen better days.

Jason nodded his thanks, took a drink before relating Spenser's condition. "The kid is awake too, and he will heal. He broke his clavicle in the fall from the rigging but damned if the kid didn't still save my sorry ass. He took two bullets. One grazed his arm when he was covering my back. The second hit him in the thigh right before he jumped from the platform with me. He also suffered second degree burns down the back of his legs from the blast. Painful but shouldn't scar according to the doc."

"I say you owe the kid a case of beer," Brock said.

Trent nodded. "I think his bravery wipes the fourteen cases off the books."

"Nah, that would give the cocky kid a big head. Give him the wrong idea how to save a few dollars," Ray said.

Changing subjects, Lisa said, "Who's gonna tell Quinn his shark repellant thingy doesn't work?" All the guys shook their heads, and she grinned. "Okay, so the story is because he wore it they stayed away from him." They all nodded and grinned, and Lisa chuckled.

* * *

 _ **Six Weeks Later – Base PT Room**_

Doing the flexing exercises the PT instructed for his shoulder, Clay watched Sonny working with the cute PT assistant. He held back a snicker. According to the guys, Quinn usually eschewed any form of physical therapy, but once he got a gander at the new assistant, he was here more than required.

For Clay, his favorite assistant was Stella. She pampered him the first week, and he reveled in her care. The second week she became all commando on him and made him move more than he wanted, following the doctor's orders. Weeks three through now, it returned to care and telling him not to push too hard, or he would set his rehab back and have to sit out longer. He listened because he itched to return to the team.

When the team doctor came over, Clay asked, "Are you going to clear me today?"

Unseen, Jason had been observing behind him and chimed in, "Only if you are one hundred percent."

Clay whipped around to peer at his CO. "I'm good to go."

"Not unless the doctor says so." Jason crossed his arms.

Sonny bounded over to his teammates with a broad grin as Betty left to help a real patient. "So Betty agreed to come to the barbeque with me this afternoon."

Clay chuckled. "You badgered her until you broke down her defenses."

"As any good operator would." Sonny eyed Clay. One of the reasons he hung around the PT area so often was to keep tabs on the kid. They didn't want him overdoing and extending his absence from the team. Though with three of them on medical leave, technically only him and Clay now since Jace had been cleared two weeks ago, they had not been sent on any missions.

"So what's the word?" Sonny directed his question to the doctor.

"Range of motion is back to normal, and the bone has fused properly. Yeah, I'm ready to sign off."

Clay flashed a grin. "Thanks, doc." He turned to Sonny. "Means I get to play baseball today."

Jason clapped the kid's back. "No black eyes today. And I think with two bullets, a broken bone, burned, and nearly blown up the Bs are done too."

"Copy," Clay agreed whole-heartedly. When the doctor signed his form, Clay hopped down. "Guess I should go buy another keg of beer."

"Nah, little brother, this one is on Bravo today. You earned it saving the boss' butt."

Clay glanced at Jason, they hadn't spoken about what he did on the platform. He didn't expect thanks … he would do it for any of his brothers, and he trusted they would do the same for him in a heartbeat. Adam had been right. _The men of Bravo are my brothers … the family who most matter to me, besides Stella._

* * *

 _ **Ballfield on Base**_

Content to lay on the blanket with his head in Stella's lap, Clay enjoyed the afternoon. The birds sang in the tree, and he gazed up at the most beautiful woman in his life. No, they weren't ready for marriage yet, but in time, he had the feeling things would work out for them.

Stella picked up another blackberry and hung it over Clay's mouth. "Want more?"

"Sure." He opened up, and she dropped it in. The burst of sweet and sour tickled his taste buds.

"What are you thinking about?" Stella carded her fingers through Clay's hair as she gazed into his true-blue eyes.

"Never had such a good birthday," Clay let slip out.

"What? Today is your birthday!" Stella shouted as she dumped Clay's head on the ground and jumped up.

Sitting up and rubbing the back of his head, he peered up at her. "Yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Cause it isn't a big deal."

Their loud conversation was overheard by the rest of the team, and after a quick whispered conversation, beer was removed from the cooler full of icy water, and they snuck around behind Clay.

"ARRGH!" Clay yelled and bolted up as he was doused in frigid water and ice.

The guys busted out laughing at the shocked and offended expression on the kid's face.

Sonny quipped, "Kid owes a case of beer."

Shaking ice out of the back of his shirt, Clay asked. "Why?"

"Rookie didn't share his birthday with his girlfriend," Sonny stated matter-of-factly.

"Another one for the kid's first birthday with the team," Trent said.

Clay only shook his head. _Brothers … pain in the asses every last one of them, but I wouldn't have it any other way._

Jason handed Spenser a beer and a towel. "This one is on me. Happy Birthday."

The blanket now soaked, Clay sat on the bench, set his bottle down and covered his head with the towel, rubbing briskly to dry his hair. When he removed it, everyone was on the opposite of the park table, and in front of him, Davis held a cake with lit candles.

His mouth gaped as Lisa started the group off singing the birthday song. When they finished, he said, "You knew?"

Lisa chuckled. "Of course, I did. It's my job to make sure you guys have everything you require. Now, blow out the candles and make a wish."

Clay took a deep breath. _I wish not to owe another damned case of beer and … my tenure with my brothers is a long one._ He blew out all of them with one breath then said, "Let's eat cake."

.

* * *

 **AN** : Hope you enjoyed Clay shining as he was whumped ... he is a Tier One operator so he is quite capable. Let me know what you think.

A **huge thank you** to those wonderful readers who purchased SECRETS: Passion, Deceit, and Revenge. Writing is a passion for me, and someday I dream of making it big (might be a pipe dream, but miracles happen to those who keep striving). If you can take a moment to provide a review on Amazon, I would much appreciate it. I love to hear what you think about the novels.

Also, thanks to everyone who sent suggestions for B. I received more than I could possibly cram into one story and just because I might not have used it in this one, doesn't mean it might not show up in another. The ones used in this story came from ...

\- **barbecue** from Victoria-Annxx

\- **beer** from Elise Deschat

\- **birds** from Guest, Megan Rachel

\- **birthday** from Bella

\- **blackberries** from Guest

\- **blanket** from Victoria-Annxx

\- **blast injury** from Chgrgal

\- **blood** from Guest

\- **blown up** from Shellymae89

\- **boats** from Jessiness5136

\- **boisterous** from Victoria-Annxx

\- **boldness** from Victoria-Annxx

\- **bomb** from IndyElora, Juniper, Victoria-Annxx

\- **bones** from Victoria-Annxx

\- **boom** from Victoria-Annxx

\- **brave** from Victoria-Annxx

\- **Bravo** from Guest, Elise Deschat

\- **breathing difficulties** from badgerbabe

\- **broken bones** from badgerbabe, Guest, Juniper, Shellymae91

\- **brotherhood** from Elise Deschat

\- **bruised lungs** from Guest

\- **bruises** from badgerbabe and Victoria-Annxx

\- **brute force** from AeroWright

\- **bullet** from Jessiness5134, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx

\- **burns** from badgerbabe and Guest

\- **bursa** from Guest


	3. Condolence Compensation

**Condolence Compensation**

* * *

 ** _Downtown Little Creek, VA - Near Chuck's Creamery_**

A light breeze cooled down the summer evening as Clay and Stella strolled down the sidewalk arm in arm. Happy Clay returned from deployment, Stella enjoyed their simple date tonight. A stop at her favorite ice cream shop and a double scoop of mint chocolate chip. She teased Clay about him getting plain chocolate topped with orange sherbet. The combination seemed odd to her.

Clay halted at the corner, scrunched up his face and hissed.

"What's wrong?" Stella's eyes surveyed him, searching for a non-existent injury … still jumpy from the few he suffered.

"Brain freeze," Clay groused.

Stella laughed.

"Hey, not funny." Clay peeked open one eye.

"Told you not to eat so fast," Stella replied with no sympathy, still grinning.

The pain ebbing, Clay's face relaxed, and he chuckled. "Been a long time since I had ice cream. Didn't want it to melt."

Stella kissed his cheek. Something about this man made her willing to put up with the life of an elite soldier who could be called away at any moment. She was learning to take pleasure in the simple things life offered, like a lazy stroll downtown with no other plans.

Her kiss was interrupted when a tiny ball of energy plowed into Clay as it rushed around the corner.

Clay peered down at the child who ran into his legs and now sat on the ground looking up at him with surprise.

"Sorry, Cami is excited about visiting Chuck's Creamery." Cami's mother said.

Crouching down, Clay grinned at the little girl, who appeared to be no more than four years old. "I like ice cream too. Just make sure you don't eat too fast … brain freezes are no fun." He helped her up as he stood.

"I like chocolate. Mommy says I can have fudge on top too," Cami said in a cheerful voice, her brown eyes alight with delight.

"You should try orange sherbet with the chocolate … yummy," Clay suggested.

"I love orange!" Turning to her mother her bright eyes begged. "Can I try, please?"

Smiling Cami's mom reached out her hand to her daughter. "Sounds interesting. Let's do it."

For several moments, Clay stood in place with a grin on his face as he watched Cami skip, hurrying her mom along to get her frozen treat.

Stella wrapped her arms around Clay's waist as she stood behind him. "You're a softy."

Their pleasant night erupted in chaos in the next moment. A ball of fire exploded from Chuck's Creamery sending glass, debris, and people flying. They stared in horror as Cami and her mother, who has just reached the shop were flung into the air and came crashing down on the sidewalk.

Heedless of the fragments of glass, brick, metal, and plastic raining down, Clay raced forward into the hectic scene as others ran from it. He knelt next to Cami his breath caught in his throat as he shielded her tiny body.

His action would not change the result. Lifeless eyes, which had only moments ago held such promise and joy stared up at him. His face screwed up in agony, and his eyes teared up … he would claim from the acrid smoke billowing out of the now destroyed creamery.

Clay had no idea how long he covered Cami, but when multiple pairs of hands pulled him up and away, he sat back on his heels and the scene finally came into focus. Firefighters, cops, and paramedics swarmed the area. Blankets covered several bodies. A sheet was being draped over Cami as sound returned.

"Sir, are you hurt?" a paramedic yelled in his face.

"Stella?" Clay frantically turned to his left.

"I'm here," Stella's quavering voice said to his right.

Clay turned to her and pulled Stella to him, his embrace bruising as he clung to her. "She is gone. She never …" He couldn't finish. There were so many nevers for Cami. Never got to try orange sherbet with chocolate. Would never grow up. She never stood a chance being so close to the blast.

Pulling back, difficult because Clay didn't want to let go, through tears Stella peered into his eyes. "I know. You need to let them look at you. You're bleeding."

"I'm okay." Clay scanned Stella, searching for injuries. "Are you hurt?"

"I was behind you. I'm fine. But you have a myriad of cuts on your face. Let them clean you up at least."

Clay stood and shook his head. He scanned around the blast zone. "This isn't supposed to happen here. This isn't a war zone. Children don't die in explosions here."

Stella waved off the medic as she said, "I'll take him home and clean him up."

They were stopped by an officer and asked if they witnessed the explosion. Neither one could provide much detail, only that it occurred. They didn't see anything or anyone out of the ordinary.

Dazed, they wandered back to Clay's apartment, and Stella cleaned all the cuts. Luckily, the visible ones were minor, nothing requiring stitches, and most not needing even a bandage, but the one to his soul, only visible through a pair of troubled blue portals, would require a different curative. They crawled into bed, held each other close, but neither slept much.

* * *

 _ **Next Morning – Base TOC**_

Being paged as he and Stella ate toast and drank coffee, was not what either one of them wanted. He watched the news that morning, and the explosion was being blamed on a gas leak. Something in his gut didn't believe that, but he had no proof otherwise.

As he approached the TOC, he wondered what they were being spun up for, but he wasn't looking forward to the questions about the contusions and cuts on his face. The image of Cami was too raw, and he didn't want to talk about it.

Placing his cell phone in the holder by the door, Clay steeled himself for their questions. Unsure how he would answer … if he would answer.

"Bout time you join us, princess," Sonny said as the door opened, knowing it would be Clay since everyone else was in the room. He sneezed three times, and when he glanced at Clay, he spotted his messed-up face. "Wow! Who'd you go ten rounds with, Cassius Clay?"

Clay assumed his seat, ignoring Sonny.

"Did Stella get mad at you?" Sonny pushed.

In no mood for joking, Clay kept silent, but everyone's eyes landed on him.

Jason studied Clay, noting the cuts, contusions and most notably the dark circles under his eyes. Something happened, but he could tell the kid was not in the talking mood. Once he found out about the mission, he would speak to him and ensure he was up for the op. He trusted Spenser to be truthful with him after the kidney infection debacle.

Mandy stood. "We can get started now. I assume you all have heard the news about the explosion at Chuck's Creamery last night. Fifteen dead, including seven children." She brought up stills of the scene, displaying them on huge monitors.

Everyone at the table and standing in the back nodded. A horrific accident, but they all wondered why Mandy broached the topic. They didn't have to wait long for an explanation.

Clicking the remote, video footage of four different explosion sites started to play. "We received this video about three this morning. The one on the right is the ice cream shop in Little Creek. The other three are a daycare in London, a busy family park in Paris, and a children's dance studio in Toronto."

Mandy started to continue when Jason bolted out of his chair. "Roll it back!"

"What?" Mandy turned a confused eye on Jason.

"The video of here. Rewind it." Jason strode to the front of the room as Ellis did as he asked. When it started playing, he waited then said, "Stop."

The entire team spotted what caught Jason's eye, and most everyone turned to peer at Clay.

"Well, fuck!" Sonny exclaimed staring at an image of Clay kneeling next to a deceased little girl.

Hayes captured Clay's gaze. "Did you know her? Are you alright?"

Clay sucked in a breath and out the corner of his eyes he spied Trent moving towards him. He preempted any molly-coddling. "I'm fine. Only superficial abrasions. And no, not really. Cami bumped into me at the corner only minutes before the blast. She was excited about getting ice cream, so she was running."

His voice dropped to a whisper, not realizing he was voicing his thoughts out loud. "Wish I chatted longer with her. She would still be alive."

The mood in the room plummeted. Cerberus moved from Brock to Clay and lay his head in Spenser's lap. Unconsciously, Clay started petting the canine, drawing a bit of comfort.

Eric took a deep breath. This mission just became personal for the team … never a good thing. He considered scrubbing Bravo and calling Charlie. Hayes wouldn't like that one damned bit, but he needed to make sure cool heads prevailed. He decided to wait a moment and not kick a hornet's nest just yet.

Mandy's heart tugged for Clay. She did possess one, though she rarely displayed it to the world. She cleared her throat to gain everyone's attention again. "As you probably guess, each of these attacks is focused on—"

"Attacks? The Creamery was a gas leak," Ray stated.

"Originally that was what was assumed. But this footage comes directly from a new splinter cell, whose name roughly translates to compensation. There is little known about the leader, but combined intel from the CIA, Canadian intelligence, and MI6 confirm that this cell is responsible for all four attacks.

"The good news is that we have a lead on the location where these videos originated. Apparently, they are not computer savvy and didn't mask their IP source."

"Or it could be a trap," Sonny offered. "Wouldn't be the first time some asshole tried to draw us in."

Mandy pursed her lips when Blackburn stepped in and said, "True, but considering these images came with a message indicating the Compensation cell plans more bombing, you have been greenlighted for a recon mission."

"Where are we going?" Jason asked.

"Chambagul, in northwestern Pakistan." Mandy flashed up a map on the monitor. The Taliban control the area. We will drop you in under cover of darkness, here," she pointed to a spot on the map. "The signal came somewhere within this radius."

Ray pulled a corresponding map to him and studied the area. "These mountains are known to be littered with caves used by various terror cells."

Mandy nodded. "Yes. This will not be easy. But if you can identify the source and grab a member of the new cell, I can interrogate them and hopefully prevent the death of more innocent children."

"Let's do it!" Sonny banged his fist on the table. His persona was a hard-assed SEAL, but he along with all of them had a soft spot for kids. Some asshole targeting areas specifically appealing to children pissed him off, and he needed to be found and if he had his way, hung up by his balls.

The team huddled around the maps to scope out their observation locations, and studied the little detail available on the caves in the area. Within thirty minutes they had a workable plan and moved to their cages to gear up.

* * *

 _ **Bravo Equipment Cages**_

Jason stopped outside Spenser's cage as the others were engaged in packing necessary weapons, scopes, and supplies. He worried about the kid after being witness to the senseless carnage. "Are you good to go?"

"Yeah," Clay didn't halt as he checked his sniper rifle.

"After watching Cami die? Remember the first rule of Bravo, don't lie to your team leader." Jason crossed his arms and waited.

After zipping up his case first, Clay pivoted to face his master chief. "Physically no issues. I want these bastards, as do the rest of you. I took Stella there last night because Ray said his daughter loves the place. If not Cami and the others it could've as easily been Ray's child, your children, … or even Stella. So yeah, this is personal but no more so than for everyone here."

Jason nodded. He noted the glint of conviction in Clay's eyes, and he made an excellent point. Alana took their kids to Chuck's more times than he could count. "You sleep at all last night?"

"No, but I will on the flight," Clay admitted.

"Okay." Jason nodded again and moved back to his cage to finish up.

* * *

 _ **Aircraft En Route to Bagram Air Base in Kabul**_

Clay moved toward Davis who appeared to be dozing in a seat at the back of the plane. He tried to follow through on his word to sleep but for the past three hours every time he closed his eyes, Cami's sweet face came to him.

He tapped her on the shoulder, and when her eyes cracked open, he grinned. "Sorry to wake you, but—"

"I got you covered." She reached into her front pocket and withdrew a pill. "Took longer than I expected for you to come asking for this." She handed over the sleeping aid.

Clay chuckled. "How'd you know I would?"

Lisa smirked. "If I told you I'd have to kill you. And I'm not interested in pissing off Jason … or Sonny … and most especially Cerberus."

The last name confused Clay until he felt a familiar furry head rub against his leg.

"He's quite protective of you."

Chuckling, Clay said, "We bonded over bullets."

Lisa laughed out loud, then covered her mouth at the glares from those around her she disturbed from their sleep. Although she laughed, there was truth in Clay's claim. Cerberus had protected him, taking one in the leg, and Clay returned the favor by covering Cerb with his body and taking bullets in his vest which would've ended the canine's days. "Go get some rest."

Clay popped the pill, and dry swallowed as he made his way to his hammock. He glanced back at Davis and almost offered her his swinging bed. With all she did for them she deserved someplace more comfortable to sleep on these flights too. He crawled in and stared at the ceiling waiting for the sleep-aid to kick in. Twenty minutes later he was snoozing.

Sonny stood from his seat and finally hung his bed. His concern for Clay ebbed. He would deny it with his dying breath, but taking Clay under his wing had been what he needed. Something about the kid he really liked … even if he was a cocky, little shit most the time. Spenser fit this team well, and he believed they gave Clay something he lacked … a family.

He chuckled as Cerb hopped up into Clay's hammock and settled his head on Clay's chest. The kid didn't stir, and the pup appeared as happy as a clam. He glanced back at Brock and saw him only shake his head at his dog's action.

* * *

 _ **Five Days Later**_  
 _ **Overwatch Position of Compensation Cell House in** **Chambagul**_

Clay shifted in his position slightly. Tired, dirty, and frustrated he maintained his eye on the scope, scanning the house they determined the Compensation cell frequented. So far, in the past few days they had snagged five of members of the cell and sent them off to Ellis for interrogation, but they were no closer to finding the leader or understanding what the next targets would be.

"Hold still," Ray groused as Clay moved again. _He's been real fidgety the last hour._

His voice coming out a little muffled due to his congestion and stuffy nose, Sonny joked, "He can't, he's got crabs in his pants."

"Don't you mean ants in his pants?" Brock corrected.

"Nah, crabs." Sonny chuckled then sneezed and wiped his runny nose on his sleeve since he didn't carry tissues. _Stupid common cold … not gonna let this stop me from taking these assholes down. I've worked through worse._

Clay retorted, "Not crabs. Only to someone like you who chases every skirt he sees needs to worry about crabs."

"Cut the chatter," Jason admonished. "TOC, Bravo One. Are we greenlighted for an assault on the house?"

From the plane, which remained at Bagram Air Base, as close as they could be to the team, Eric responded, "No go yet."

"Cake eaters are fighting whose AO this is and who's decision it falls under," Davis groused, as frustrated as her boys waiting for permission to round up all ten men who had been seen entering the abode this morning.

Clay sat up. "I'll be back in a moment."

"Don't get lost … or we'll leave you here," Sonny teased.

Ray took over scanning as Clay went to relieve himself. Spenser had held his position for eight hours. The motions now made sense … the kid had to pee.

Moving down the slope and out of sight of the guys, Clay leaned on a tree and took a few deep breaths. He coughed as his chest tightened. _I'm gonna be pissed if I caught Sonny's damned cold._ After relieving himself, Clay slogged back up the hill. He knelt to resume his overwatch position, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Take a break. Eat. Rack out for a few hours," Trent said having overheard a cough. _Bad enough Sonny is sneezing and hacking, now it appeared as if Clay caught the bug._

"I'm good."

"Do as Trent says," Jason ordered as he crawled up next to Ray. "My turn anyway."

Without further comment, Clay changed his location, making sure he was as far away from Sonny as possible, he stretched out on his back and put his arm behind his head. As Cerb laid next to him, he softly chuckled and spoke to the canine. "Brock's gonna be mad you're cheating on him."

Brock grinned. Cerberus liked all the team but took a special shine to the kid. It didn't bother him one bit his dog cuddled up to Spenser … at least he was aware of the kid's location.

When Spenser got separated from them in the caves the third day, they searched the catacombs for several hours. The twists and turns and false tunnels which ended in dead ends confused all of them. He hoped they didn't have to go into that fucking maze again.

Jason became so angry the kid got lost, Brock thought his boss would go into cardiac arrest. Luckily, Cerb led them to Spenser. Unluckily for Clay, Jason let loose a cannon barrage of words about paying attention to his surroundings.

In Clay's defense, Jason had ordered them to be silent, not knowing if they would encounter hostiles in those pitch black caves. The last man in the line, Clay's NOD's battery failed right before they reached a junction of five tunnels and the kid chose the wrong one because of the way sounds echoed off the rocks.

Jason had just settled into place when Blackburn's voice came over their comms. "Bravo One, TOC. Go for assault. Happy hunting."

The team all rose. They had planned their tactics already and each knew they part. They only hoped this would net the person they sought and they could prevent the loss of more innocent lives.

* * *

 _ **Compensation Cell House**_

The dark of night concealed their approach. Clay set the charge on the door as Jason, Ray, Sonny, Brock, and Trent waited. They all turned as they exploded C-4, then rushed in prepared to kill if necessary but preferring to take them alive for information.

They found six men sitting cross-legged around a hookah pipe. Heavy smoke clouded the room and the odor of cannabis hung in the air … all six stoned, peering up at them calmly. As Ray and Brock zip-tied hands behind each man, Sonny stood guard and the remainder moved to clear the rest of the house.

"Bravo One, TOC. You have four squirters running out the back," Davis informed them as she watched the feed from the drone overhead.

"Copy." Jason motioned to Clay and Trent to follow him. They ran after their targets towards the mountain.

"Bravo One, sending Bravo Three, we'll hold the rest here," Ray said and Sonny took off like a rocket, huffing a little harder than normal due to his chest congestion.

"TOC, Bravo Two. Six targets secured. Send in support They are all high as kites and calm."

"Three mics out," Davis replied.

* * *

 _ **Mountain Range**_

"Well, shit. They're fast and headed for the damned caves," Sonny breathed out as he caught up to the others as they moved up the mountain. "Are they fucking mountain climbers or track runners?"

"They know the area and are accustomed to the altitude," Clay said as he almost stepped in a crevice. He was not looking forward to going into the caverns again. Not claustrophobic, but he didn't like the cramped space and all the interconnecting channels which would allow someone who knew the layout to evade them.

A few minutes later, Jason halted them at a cave entrance. Davis had informed them their targets disappeared off the monitor at these coordinates. Jason debated with himself to go in after them.

"Boss, we can't let them go. They won't return to that house and if we don't go after them now, we might lose them altogether. If the leader is one of them, well, they can carry out their plans and more children will die. I can't live with that if I had an opportunity to stop it," Clay said, his eyes glinting with conviction.

The kid spoke Jason's thoughts out loud. "TOC, we're going in. Bravo Two after you hand off the targets, join us."

"Copy," sounded from Ray and Eric.

* * *

 _ **Caves**_

Clay took point as they entered. With fresh batteries in his NODs he wouldn't encounter the same issue again. The four moved deeper into the catacomb. Coming to a fork, Jason split up the group, he kept Clay with him as Trent and Sonny headed down the other path.

After five minutes of slow, silent searching, Clay halted and tapped his ear, indicating he heard voices. He pointed off to the left.

Jason nodded. They both crept forward, carefully placing their feet, hoping surprise would be on their side.

Coming to a bend in the tunnel, Clay peeked around the corner, before pulling back and nodding to Jason as he held up four fingers. He crouched to draw in the dirt indicating this appeared to be one of the dead ends which opened up into a larger area. He marked where he spotted each of the four.

In synch, they moved into the area as Clay spoke orders in Urdu which is the national language of Pakistan and understood by the majority of the population even if it isn't their first language. Both he and Jason were surprised when they complied, and more astonished when the men turned out to be women dressed as men.

Chameh Mamund said in English, "Don't shoot. We go peacefully," as she knelt and put her hands on her head.

Clay moved in to confine their hands as Jason covered him. He reached one of the women and as he grasped one hand, she whipped around and clawed at his face. Nails raked down his cheek and he wrestled the hellcat to the ground, zip-tying her hands behind her.

"You alright?" Jason asked.

Avoiding putting a hand up to check for damage, Clay answered, "Yeah." He bound the remaining three with no further incidents.

Sonny and Trent arrived a moment later, their path through the twisting caves bringing them to the same destination. Trent stepped forward and peered at Clay's face. In the green glow of night vision, he could only tell something was off.

"Just scratches," Clay answered the unasked question.

"Are we sure they are the four we are after?" Sonny peered at four women in men's clothing.

"Uncertain. We take them in any way and if they are not, they will be released," Jason said. "Let's find our way out of here."

They began to backtrack, but it became apparent they lost their direction when they ended up in a dead end. Jason focused on the woman who spoke. "Do you know the way out?"

"I wouldn't tell you even if I did. People can be lost in here for months only to be found dead. Usually eaten by a common leopard. The cats like these caves," Chameh sneered, her contempt for them showing.

Jason got in her face. "Well, you'll be the first one we feed to the cat if that happens."

"You are all so violent. You come into my country. You kill our children indiscriminately. You think condolence compensation is enough to right your wrongs. Five thousand U.S. dollars for the life of my girl. That is all my child was worth to you. Causalities of war I'm told. Cold cash is not fitting compensation for my little Cassandan," Chameh spit out with burning hatred in her eyes.

Clay pushed her up against the wall. "You! You are the one responsible for the bombings."

"Yes. And though you may have me. Others will carry out my plans. You will suffer commiserate losses. I will avenge Cassandan's murder by the coalition forces."

Clay clenched his hands making tight fists. He never thought he could strike a woman unless she was attempting to kill him, but he wanted to smash his fist into cheekbone … shatter and bloody it as Cami's had been by the explosion.

"Whoa, little buddy, we need to take her for interrogation. Need her alive." Sonny pulled Clay back. Not that he didn't feel the same way, but beating a restrained prisoner was a surefire way to be disciplined and possibly ending a career. A little roughing up could be explained, but the cold fury he perceived in Clay would result in way more than that.

"Take point," Jason ordered Clay, his thoughts running along the same lines as Sonny's.

Moving out, trying to figure a way out of the fucking caves, Clay fought the cyclone in his head as images of little Cami's face mixed with dollar signs. _Condolence Compensation … ah hell! A mother enraged is a dangerous beast._

His mind a bit too preoccupied with the cause, the reason behind this woman's vendetta, he failed to pick up movement to the right and slightly above him. The demon hiss and snarl his only warning before one hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle slammed into him, knocking him to the ground.

Sharp claws ripped into his upper back near his neck, a place not protected by body armor, and the front of his vest. Luckily, his armor prevented those claws from penetrating to his chest but shredded the material. The hind claws dug into his legs pinning Clay in the dirt.

Clay brought up his arms to shield his face as the aggressive wild cat attempted to bite him. He screamed as both three-inch-long, dagger teeth sank into his left forearm and powerfully clamped down.

Three shots rang out in unison as Trent, Sonny, and Jason all hit the leopard. The big cat dropped dead onto the kid's body with Clay's arm still lodged in its jaw.

Panting, in pain, Clay ground out, "Get it off."

As Trent and Jason rushed to help, Chameh's laughter filled the cramped tunnel. Sonny's fist flew, striking the crazy woman, knocking her out with one blow. Her body collapsed to the ground and he glared at the others daring them to do the same thing. He would claim he was detaining them as while his teammates dealt with a life or death situation. The other women all shrank back not willing to suffer the same consequence.

Jason pried the jaw open as Trent shrugged off his pack and unzipped it to grab a pressure bandage. With his uninjured hand, Clay pushed ineffectually trying to get the cat off him. The weight on his chest made it difficult to breathe.

Once he released Clay's arm from the dead cat's mouth, Jason dragged it off. He inhaled raggedly as he crouched next Clay. He hadn't believed the conniving woman about cats lurking in the caves, but when the damned thing attacked the kid, he nearly choked on his own spit. "What can I do?"

"Grab another bandage. His neck is bleeding like a stuck pig. The claw marks are damned close to the carotid artery. Don't know if it nicked it." Trent worked fast to wrap Clay's forearm, worried about which veins, arteries, and muscles might be damaged.

Taking in a shaky breath Clay's focus landed on the cat's bloody canines. He came damned close to being a meal. Though a little smaller than him, the carnivore easily overpowered him. He groaned and clenched his teeth as Trent and Jason applied pressure.

"We need to evac him. I also need a sample of the cat's brain tissue," Trent said.

"I'll do it, but why?" Sonny pulled out his knife and flipped his rifle around to use the butt to crack open the cranium.

"Rule out rabies. Not that I see any outward signs, but if we can test for it, he won't require the full series of shots." After tying off the gauze on the arm, Trent moved to Clay's legs.

Deep cuts in one thigh and his calf needed tending. The kid was a bloody mess and the attack only lasted seconds, though it took years off Trent's life when the massive cat leapt on Clay.

"Damn, with my luck, it will be rabid." He sneezed several times then coughed.

"You allergic to cats?" Sonny asked as he cut into the crushed skull to dig out brain matter.

"No. Caught your damned chest cold," Clay wheezed and coughed a couple more times, which resulted in Jason holding him down.

"Don't move," Jason commanded, before addressing Trent. "Don't think the carotid is hit. The bleeding is slowing."

"Good." Trent continued to apply a field dressing to Clay's calf.

"I need something to put this in." Sonny held up his blade with a chunk of the brain on the end.

A bark alerted them to Cerberus who was followed by Brock and Ray. Cerberus approached the dead leopard and let out a guttural growl not liking the odor.

"What the hell?" Brock's eyes widened in disbelief at the scene before him. They tried to raise the others via comms, but in the caves, they evidently didn't work. So, he let Cerb do the work for them and his pup led them right to the others.

Sonny glanced up at Brock. "Give me a bag or something. Clay decided to play with the kitty and said cat wanted to eat him instead."

Pulling out a baggie of candy, dried fruits, and nuts, Brock picked out the last two cinnamon lozenges and put them in his pocket. Then he dumped remnants of the cashews, cranberries, currants, and cherries in the dirt and handed the plastic to Sonny. "What's that?"

"A souvenir," Sonny quipped and slipped the brain matter in and sealed the bag.

After wrapping the leg wounds, Trent asked, "Think you can walk?"

Clay nodded. "Yeah, just need a hand up."

Ray moved forward to help Jason and Trent stand the kid up. Once he was on his feet, Jason maintained pressure on Clay's neck and upper back wounds while Trent ensured Spenser wouldn't face plant when he wobbled a bit.

A little woozy, Clay managed to remain upright. Though he hurt like hell, he wanted to walk out under his own power. He clenched his jaw and suppressed another groan when Trent and Jason swapped places and Trent applied more compression to his neck.

"What happened to the woman?" Ray asked peering down at the unconscious female.

"She fainted," Jason stated as he eyed Sonny, then said, "You carry her."

Sonny groused as he roughly lifted and tossed her over his shoulder, wishing he could drag her by her hair. The coldhearted bitch killed innocent children for some screwed up revenge plan. He would've shown compassion and possibly sympathized if she went after who killed her child, but she chose to go after blameless kids.

Brock took point with Cerb leading the way out, his eyes now scanning up as well as in front as the group started to move out. Ray assumed guarding their captives, so Trent could manage Clay, Sonny carried the one who collapsed, and Jason brought up the rear.

* * *

 _ **Kabul – Craig Joint Theater Hospital - Clay's Room**_

Clay lay in a comfy bed staring at the ceiling tiles his mind roaming over the last six hours. Currently, in no pain, the doctor insisting on giving him a strong dose of pain meds, he could finally relax his aching muscles.

The flight in the helo had been hell. Clay's calf cramped so bad he wanted Trent to cut off his leg. The throbbing and stringing of his wounds were relentless, but he didn't want to take morphine so Trent gave him a couple of capsules of some painkiller. They didn't touch his pain, but he kept that to himself.

He became nauseous mid-way back, and tossed his cookies, barely making it to the edge of the copter's cabin to puke outside. If he hadn't, it would've added to everyone's misery if they had to deal with the odor the remainder of the trip.

But that didn't stop Sonny from harassing him and complaining 'don't want to travel with the kid … he gets carsick.' He understood where the good-natured razzing came from now, but he almost wished he had upchucked on Sonny to shut him up.

 _Nah, that would've made it ten times worse._ But he did retort that his ralphing was due to the cold Sonny gave him and not his wounds. Not sure if that was true or not he had gone with it anyway and the guys began giving Sonny crap for coming on a mission while contagious since both Ray and Brock started sneezing during their flight.

Once they landed at Bagram Air Base, he was whisked off to the hospital. Poked, prodded, cleaned, stitched up, and scanned the doctor pronounced he would be fine given a few weeks to rest. No permanent damage.

The location of the bite had been one concern. The cephalic vein had been punctured and with it near the radial nerve they believed it might be damaged. Luckily, that was not the case. Although they had to repair his extensor carpi radialis brevis muscle in his forearm. They braced his wrist to prevent movement while the muscle healed.

Clay glanced at the IV providing fluids and intravenous antibiotics. He would be here until the course finished, then he could fly home with the rest of them … if the congestion in his chest cleared. _Damned cold Sonny gave me._ He was mid-cough when his door pushed open.

Jason entered and pulled a chair to the bedside. "How are you doing?"

"Alright. Wish I could leave with you guys today."

"Well, we won't be going anywhere. Sonny's cold developed into a full-fledged chest infection and Brock and Ray are heading in that direction. The doc put them all on antibiotics. So we will be here until you are released. And even if that had not happened, I told you I have your back. We are a team and we stick together."

"Get sick together too," Clay chuckled, causing another round of coughing.

Jason leaned back and grinned. "Yeah, that too … though I'm hoping that bypasses me."

"It will. Cold germs wouldn't dare attack Master Chief Hayes." Clay smiled.

"Damn right."

"Any news from Mandy? Did anyone give up the locations?"

Nodding Jason said, "The cuckoo one who scratched your face ended up confessing everything. Names, places … all we needed to know to send teams out to round them up before they strike again."

"What about the woman who started all of this? Who is she?"

"Her name is Chameh Mamund. Her daughter was killed in cross-fire about three years ago. Who caused the little girl's death, the soldiers or the jihadists, was inconclusive but Chameh was given a standard condolence compensation anyway.

"She joined a terrorist cell to learn how they operate and then gathered like-minded people to her cause. They found her in her prison cell dead about an hour ago. Apparently, she concealed a cyanide capsule sewn in the hem of her pants."

Jason stood when his noted Clay's eyes beginning to droop. "I'll let you get some rest. I need to check in with Blackburn. I'll check on you later. Davis and Trent are on their way."

"Why is Davis coming?" Clay pulled the covers over the stupid hospital gown wishing he had sweatpants on.

Holding back on his chuckle, Jason walked to the door. "She worked some magic to get the rabies test run and wants to share the results with you."

"Do you know?"

Jason shook his head. "I'll be back soon. Rest."

Clay shut his eyes after Jason exited. He had one hell of a week and all he wanted to do was go home to Stella and tell her he helped get the callous psycho responsible for Cami's death and the woman would never hurt another child.

Lisa peeked in and noted Clay's closed eyelids. She knocked softly not wanting to wake him, but her efforts were moot when Trent pushed open the door and spoke loudly, "Time to celebrate … got fantastic news, kid."

His eyes popping open, Clay noted both Trent and Lisa. "Yeah, what?"

Lisa smiled. "Negative for rabies. No additional shots."

"Thanks, Davis."

Instead of responding to the appreciation, Lisa lifted a bag and set it on Clay's lap. "Brought you these too."

Clay chuckled as he peered at a pair of leopard-spotted pajama pants. "No way in hell I'm wearing those. Rather stay in this gown."

"Told you he wouldn't want those," Sonny said as he entered. He tossed a pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt from Clay's go bag on the bed. "Least I can do is bring you something to wear so your ass don't hang out the back of that gown." He started coughing and Trent told him to sit down before he fell down.

Soon Ray and Brock joined everyone in his room along with Cerberus who had been snuck in on the bottom of a gurney hidden by a sheet. Leaving the unneeded gurney outside the room, they all found places to relax and began shooting the breeze.

Jason returned fifteen minutes later with news the team would all fly home tomorrow on a commercial flight. Their first-class tickets arranged courtesy of thankful coalition forces for putting an end to Chameh's reign of terror on children.

As Mandy approached Clay's room, she heard familiar laughter and it warmed her heart. These men wheedled their way in and although she wanted to keep a professional distance, they continually drew her in. Their efforts in shutting down the Compensation cell, and stopping twenty planned attacks, saved an untold number of innocents.

Standing at the entry Mandy said, "Is this a private celebration or can anyone join?"

Jason waved her in and spied a huge bag in her hand. "What do you have there?"

Mandy smiled. "Chicken soup. They say it is good for the soul and for preventing and curing colds too. Brought enough for everyone."

Several minutes later, everyone enjoying the soup, Clay glanced around as he lifted his spoon. _Yeah, chicken noodle soup will help with my cold, but Bravo team, Ellis, Davis, and Blackburn are the curative I needed to put sweet little Cami's soul to rest._

.

* * *

 **AN:** Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Always happy to hear what you think of the story and appreciate the few moments you take to post a review.

Time to send me suggestions for letters D and E. Thanks for all the awesome input for C. Word suggestions used in this one are ...

\- cabin from kenyancougar  
\- cage from Shellymae88, NetMyne01, Poolie  
\- calm from Victoria-Annxx  
\- camera from Elise Deschat  
\- Canada from Elise Deschat  
\- candy from Jessiness5134  
\- canine from kenyancougar  
\- cannabis from kenyancougar  
\- canons from Jessiness5134  
\- capsule from Elise Deschat  
\- captive/capture/captivity from AeroWright, IndyElora, NetMyne01, Poolie, Lunary  
\- cardiac arrest from badgerbabe, Juniper  
\- carotid from Elise Deschat  
\- carsick from Crazykids121  
\- cat from Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx, Elise Deschat  
\- caves from NetMyne01  
\- cell (phone/prison/terrorist) from kenyancougar, Guest  
\- Cerberus from kenyancougar, Elise Deschat  
\- cheek from Victoria-Annxx  
\- chest cold/infection from Guest  
\- chest from Juniper  
\- child/children from Elise Deschat  
\- choked/choking from Guest, NetMyne01, Poolie  
\- claws from Megan Rachel  
\- climbing from Poolie  
\- cold from Jessiness5134, Shellymae88, Poolie  
\- collapse/collapsed from Princess Of The Kingdom, NetMyne01, Poolie  
\- comfort from Guest  
\- common cold from NetMyne01  
\- compassion from Guest  
\- confusion from badgerbabe, Crazykids121  
\- congestion from Jessiness5134  
\- contagious from NetMyne01  
\- contusions from kenyancougar, Elise Deschat, Crazykids121  
\- conviction from Jessiness5134  
\- cough from NetMyne01, Poolie  
\- cramp from Shellymae88  
\- cranberries from Elise Deschat  
\- cranium from Victoria-Annxx, kenyancougar  
\- crap from NetMyne01  
\- crazy from Shellymae88  
\- crying from badgerbabe, Princess Of The Kingdom, Elise Deschat  
\- cuckoo from kenyancougar  
\- cuddles from Victoria-Annxx  
\- curative from Elise Deschat  
\- current (fruit) from Elise Deschat  
\- cuts from badgerbabe, IndyElora, Jessiness5134, NetMyne01, Elise Deschat, Lunary  
\- cyclone from Elise Deschat


	4. Dogged Determination

**Dogged Determination**

* * *

 _ **Building in the Outskirts of Dongola, Sudan**_

Darkness and silence met Clay's eyes as they flickered open. Drawn back into unconsciousness moments later, they shut without registering anything.

* * *

 _ **Ray's Home**_

Handing Jason a beer, Ray laughed. "So what happened next?"

Jason rubbed his shoulder then took a swig before continuing. "Emma's in tears and calling me a mean Dad as she comes to a stop at the intersection. I told her, if she can drive under duress, she will be safer driving under normal conditions."

"Man, I wouldn't want to take driving lessons from you. I think your daughter would be better off with Alana teaching her," Naima said as she brought them sandwiches.

"Well, it is a damn good thing I did. Not ten minutes later, we were heading down Witchduck Road when a dog darted into the road, and an oncoming dump truck swerved into Emma's lane to miss the animal. Instead of panicking, Emma executed a controlled stop on a lawn. The other driver overcompensated as he tried to return to his lane, tipping his truck and sending dirt spilling everywhere, blocking the two-lane street."

Ray set his roast beef sandwich down. "So how did you tweak your shoulder if Emma stopped?"

Jason grimaced. "After the driver, who appear to weigh no less than three hundred pounds, crawled out of the cab, he came roaring at Emma, blaming her for his error. Smelled the alcohol on him from ten feet away. Had to take him down and hold the drunkard until police arrived."

Naima's brows rose. "And what did Emma do while you were tackling the man?"

"Calmly called the police and caught the dog. That's my girl." Jason beamed with pride.

"So is she still upset with how you taught her to drive?"

About to answer, both Jason's and Ray's phones buzzed. Ray stood and kissed Naima goodbye as Jason grabbed his sandwich and headed for the door.

* * *

 _ **Building in the Outskirts of Dongola, Sudan**_

Rousing again, Clay's eyelids didn't want to open … took too much effort. This time pressure encased him, preventing movement. Not that he wanted to move … pain radiated from all points of his body. Disoriented with thoughts jumbled and discombobulated, Clay fought to remain conscious … a battle he rapidly lost. He slipped into blackness, gaining relief from intense pain.

* * *

 _ **Dentist Office**_

Davis played with the paper bib the assistant clipped around her neck a few moments ago. She detested coming to the dentist, but she put off having the filling replaced long enough. With Bravo off rotation for a full week, she decided to take care of this finally.

"A pleasure to see you again, Lisa," a man with too bright white and perfect teeth crooned as he took a seat on the stool.

Glancing at Dr. Decay, she once again thought what a strange last name for a man who chose the occupation of dentistry. She bit back her retort of 'can't say the same,' and said, "I have five more days off, so I had time to schedule an appointment."

"What keeps you so busy you can't take proper dental care?" Decay said as he prepped the syringe of novocaine.

"Logistics. The Navy always needs to send something, somewhere."

Injecting the local anesthetic, Decay only nodded then said, "Gonna numb you up real well."

Davis' phone began buzzing as he finished, she tugged it out of her front pocket and smiled at the reprieve. Whatever the situation, it would be a hundred times better than getting a replacement filling. Sitting up, Lisa said, "Sorry, doc. I gotta go." She yanked off the little napkin and rushed out without further explanation.

* * *

 _ **Building in the Outskirts of Dongola, Sudan**_

Drifting, Clay blinked open his eyes. His blurred vision noted a stream or two of daylight. Dust motes floated around him. Breathing difficult, he couldn't fully expand his diaphragm. He detected no sounds … none whatsoever … his world deafeningly silent.

Inhaling, he sucked in dust which clung to the back of his throat and caused him to cough. Hundreds of daggers stabbed into his chest and back with the effort. Overwhelmed with pain, the arms of Morpheus drew him back under to blissful oblivion.

* * *

 _ **Diamond Dave's Bar**_

Sonny lined up his shot and threw the dart, hitting the bullseye. He turned and chuckled at the dumbstruck college students. "Pay up, boys."

Dwayne cockily said, "Double or nothing."

"Dude, no way. I'm cutting my losses," Kevin glared at his friend as he pulled out his wallet and plopped down a twenty. "You need to pay the other sixty, I'm tapped out, and you are the one who dared him he couldn't hit five bullseyes in a row."

"No, you are the one who said five. I said two. If you didn't have the cash why'd you bet?" Dwayne argued.

Sonny pocketed the twenty and sat back as dumb and dumber got into a heated debate. Their disagreement drew the attention of everyone in the bar. When the two supposed friends came to blows, Sonny enjoyed the show, not about to step in and stop them.

Deana, one of the patrons, sauntered up to Sonny, "You know they do this all the time to get out of paying the full amount of their bets?"

One brow arching, Sonny eyed the beauty. "Really?"

"Yeah. They're quite dishonest. Just thought you should know." She leaned down and slipped him a piece of paper. "Call me sometime, big guy." Deana waved as she headed out the door with three of her girlfriends.

Sonny rose and grabbed both Dwayne and Kevin by the scruff of their collars, and knocked their heads together, stunning them. Yanking Dwayne backward, Sonny growled, "Ducking out on bets isn't right. Now, pay up and don't ever come back here."

Dwayne's eyes rounded. Their normal decoy and distraction hadn't worked, and this guy was strong. He swallowed a lump of fear. "Um, yeah, sure, dude." He reached for his wallet and pulled out three bills then he and Kevin scrambled out of the country bar.

As Sonny shoved the money in his pocket, he was greeted with a round of applause and his phone buzzing. He didn't get to bask in his glory for long as he read the text from Blackburn, but he smiled. He would rather be working a mission than sitting in his cold, lonely apartment … though perhaps Deana would've warmed his bed tonight given half a chance.

* * *

 _ **Building in the Outskirts of Dongola, Sudan**_

Unsure how many times he woke and slipped off again, Clay's world remained deathly silent and full of agony. This time his tongue darted out, hoping to wet his dry lips, but the cottony attempt only succeeded in tasting dirt and leaving him drier.

Braving the coming pain, Clay tried moving his hand. He groaned as his fingers dug into the dirt, wiggling a little this way and that, but kept going vaguely aware his survival depended on him …

Something shifted, displacing and moving the weight on his shoulder. He screamed as white-hot fire ripped through him. Panting for breath, dizziness overtook him with the lack of air, and down into the rabbit hole he went again as he blacked out.

* * *

 _ **Base Vet's Office**_

Brock petted Cerberus while waiting for the vet to return after doing an exam. His dog had been agitated for the past day, pacing and whining, and last night he woke Brock up in the middle of the night with a mournful howl. He had bolted up out of bed worried Cerb was hurt or sick.

Cerberus never liked coming to the veterinary office, especially after getting shot in the thigh, but he had never whimpered and carried on in this manner before, and the behavior disconcerted Brock. "Good boy. Doc's gonna find out what is wrong, and I'm gonna make sure you are well taken care of."

Brown eyes locked on hazel ones as Cerberus tried to convey his reasons for whining. _I'm not sick … it is Clay. Need to rescue my boy. Wish I spoke human._ "Bark, bark, woof."

"Calm down, Cerb." Brock scratched behind his pup's ears and blew out a breath, stumped and concerned.

Dr. Amy Denzel entered the room wearing a perplexed expression. "Well, I can find nothing wrong. I have run every diagnostic I can think of and they all show he is healthy. You say this behavior started yesterday?"

"Yeah. Not like him."

"Has he ever exhibited anything like this, even in a more moderate fashion."

Brock thought back over the last two years and shook his head. "No."

"Bark, bark." Cerberus nudged his own thigh then pinned his eyes on Brock trying to make him understand.

Amy reached out and palpitated the dog's thigh with a gentle touch. "Perhaps his thigh pains him. Though he doesn't appear to be bothered by my contact."

"Woof, whine, bark." _Clay, remember I go all crazy when Clay is hurt. Remember, please._ Cerberus pawed at Brock's chest.

"I'm mystified," Amy said. "Perhaps this is some form of dog PTSD. He has been in the field with you for many missions. The stress might be too much for him."

"Growl." Cerb shook his head. _How dumb, I don't have DPTSD. My boy is in danger and needs help!_

Brock's phone began buzzing. "Excuse me a moment." He pulled it out and spotted Blackburn's message just as Cerb hopped off the table and stood at the door. Brock's gut churned. He knelt next to Cerb, and his voice came out soft, "Cerb's only acted this way when the kid is hurt."

"BARK!" Cerb jumped up and put his paws on the doorknob.

Standing, Brock said, "Gotta go. Thanks, doc." He opened the portal, and his dog ran to the exit, waiting for him to catch up. _Dammit, Clay better_ be _alright. Wish I could speak dog_.

* * *

 _ **Building in the Outskirts of Dongola, Sudan**_

Awareness came slowly, and Clay recalled what moving only his fingers caused. Not wanting a repeat, he lay still. Thirsty, so thirsty. The desire for water … anything to wet his mouth and lips consumed the vast majority of his thoughts and most of what was left over was occupied with unrelenting pain.

Lifting his lids, Clay found the beams of daylight had shifted. Time passed, but how much, he couldn't discern. Unable to move, to hear, or to call out through his dry throat … Clay began to wonder if he would die of dehydration in this silent tomb.

* * *

 _ **Trent's Apartment Complex Pool**_

Reclined on the lounge chair, Trent popped another date in his mouth as he watched his girlfriend bounce on the diving board. He enjoyed dating her and hoped, in time, their relationship might grow into something more. She executed a perfect dive, slicing cleanly into the pool. When her head appeared at the edge near him, he grinned. "I give that a ten."

Dawn pulled herself out of the water and sauntered over to Trent. She was happy he was divorced, his ex-wife was a dumbbell for dumping a man of his caliber, but the ditzy blonde's loss was Dawn's gain. She sat next to him dripping water all over him. "Thank you, kind, sir." Dawn leaned down and captured his mouth, desiring to do more than kiss him.

Reveling in the juicy kiss, Trent sigh, wishing he could have more than five more days downtime. After meeting Dawn six months ago, his private life had been brighter. Meeting her coincided with Clay joining their team, so he figured he had balance in his life … ying and yang his instructor at the dojo called it.

Clay was a challenge. If trouble was to be found, it usually had the kid's name on it. He had spent most his off time brushing up on diagnostics skills … secretly ticked off the Canadian medic, Duncan, figured out Clay's kidney infection.

Dawn pulled back and stared at Trent. "Where is your mind now? Certainly not on kissing me."

 _Busted._ Trent opened his mouth, wondering what excuse he would use, but his buzzing phone saved him as he grabbed it. "Damn, I had a gut feeling. Sorry, babe. Rain check." He stood and slipped on his flip-flops, stopping to give her one more kiss. _Thank goodness she isn't a drama-queen like my ex-wife._

Dismayed he had to leave, but understanding the importance of his job, Dawn realized being a frogman was in Trent's DNA. So was caring for others. She spotted all the medical textbooks Trent kept in his bedroom. Though he spoke little of his teammates, she comprehended the new guy constantly tested Trent's skills.

* * *

 _ **Base TOC**_

Jason scanned the room as Trent entered noting all of Alpha and everyone from Bravo with the exception of Clay had gathered. Turning to Blackburn, he said, "Don't know where Spencer is but based on your message, time is of the essence. Let's start and I'll fill him in once he arrives."

Eric shook his head. "Spenser will not be joining us."

"Why? Delta is in trouble, and we are spun up for a rescue mission," Jason demanded.

Raking a hand through his hair, Eric braced himself for an explosion. "Spenser is with Delta."

"What!" Jason exclaimed.

"How?" Brock asked.

"Dammit!" Sonny growled.

"BARK!" Cerberus contributed as he peered at Brock.

Trent slumped in his seat. "Damn, he's gonna test me again. I can feel it in my gut."

Blackburn explained what he knew. "Clay was here when Delta got spun up two days ago. They are down a man. Their sniper, Roberson, was deactivated, after being diagnosed with diabetes. Senior Chief Dunn approached Spenser and suggested he contact you for permission to join his team for this mission, but before he could call, Admiral Droit stepped in and made the decision. I wasn't informed until the dung hit the fan. I am as pissed off as you."

Ray interjected, "Why and how aren't important. Where are we going and what is the situation?"

Jason nodded and put his anger on the back burner.

Mandy stood, somewhat surprised the team settled as quickly as they did, she expected major damage and destruction when they learned the new guy went out on a mission without them. DEVGRU teams were tight-knit and none more so than Bravo.

"Delta team went after Muneer al-Darwish, a major arms dealer in the horn of Africa. Intel put him in Dongola, a town in South Kordofan State in Sudan. Everything appeared to go according to plan until they reached the exfil location. Delta took heavy fire, and the helo sustained damage to the tail rotor and could not take off, then both pilots were killed as they moved to cover.

Mandy flashed pictures on the screen. "They got trapped here when an RPG brought down most of the building. Delta One communicated his team split up before it hit. The HVT, two live crew members, the pilot's bodies, and Delta Two, Four, and Six were with him.

"Before comms went out, Dunn conveyed he took a bullet in the leg, Delta Four's ankle broke, and one of the helo's crew is unconscious after the walls came down them. The fate of the other two is unknown. They were in the stairwell on the way to the roof to provide overwatch when the RPG hit and neither of them responded to multiple calls."

"Why wasn't a QRT from Camp Lemonnier sent in to retrieve them?" Jason asked. The Navy base, part of Combined Joint Task Force in Africa, maintained a separate secure compound for special operations.

"All I can say is some sort of pissing match between CENTCOM and USAFRICOM. Lemonnier's commander, Ferete, got his panties in a bunch when Admiral Droit brought in Delta instead of using one of his teams." Eric's frustration etched in his furrowed brow.

"Dmn ck etrs," Lisa mumbled 'damned cake eaters' out of a numbed-up mouth, which would've caused a chuckle among the guys, except no one experienced one ounce of mirth as they questioned the fate of their brothers, and for Bravo, their newest teammate who shouldn't have been forced to go with Delta.

Mandy said, "The only thing going right for our guys is it appears the hostiles must've believed them all to be dead after destroying the building and didn't bother to search for survivors. Delta's support staff have been monitoring the ISR feed since and although there is a lot of activity in the general area, no one has approached Delta's location." She went on to provide additional details, and within the hour the teams and support staff were airborne.

* * *

 _ **Building in the Outskirts of Dongola, Sudan**_

Cognizant of little, other than the sense of doom pervading his disordered mind, Clay's eyes opened to find the passage of time again as his surroundings were now bathed in darkness with a glimmer of moonlight. His world consisted of pain and utter silence which scared him … if he didn't die here, his career would be over if he was deaf.

With no saliva, his tongue swelled, but he couldn't stop the reflex to lick at his parched lips. Throbbing all over his body stayed at a constant because he could not move … nor did he dare attempt to shift since it caused dagger-like agony in his shoulder and back. The ache in his head took him to a whole new level of agony, believing his skull would split open at any second.

Succumbing to oblivion again, Clay didn't feel the nibbles of the Dongola gerbils which took up residence in the rubble. Nor did he hear Delta Five's pleas for him to provide him status.

Distressed, Dominic peered at the back of Clay's head from his position trapped against the wall. With a dislocated left shoulder and broken right forearm, he could not lift the massive mud brick and stones pinning his legs. For the past two days, he repeatedly called out to Clay, until he was hoarse, hoping for some sign the man still lived.

Clay's ungodly scream yesterday when the debris shifted on the kid's back, tore at Dominic's gut, but he couldn't do a damned thing to help Spenser, much less himself. Dominic comprehended Clay would be dehydrated by now … Dom was, and he had access to water in his canteen. Though seemingly futile, he attempted to raise his team leader on the comms again.

Slumping back, disheartened when he received no answer, Dominic wondered if his buddies were dead and if another team would be coming soon to rescue … or recover them. If help didn't arrive soon, he didn't think Spenser would make it out alive, if he hadn't expired already.

* * *

 _ **Camp Lemonnier Tarmac – DEVGRU Aircraft**_

Bravo and Alpha teams geared up as Davis connected her laptop to the ISR drone feed. "Things still appear quiet."

Jason took a glance over her shoulder. "Any movement where the munitions are stored?"

"No, same guard configuration as Delta support identified over the past few days," Lisa replied. The teams would need to destroy the cache of weapons, namely the RPGs before the evac helicopters would be able to land close enough to exfil with the wounded and dead.

She glanced up at Jason, "Bring our guys home."

"That's the plan." Hayes strode out with the others to board the three SH-60 Sea Hawks.

They required three because each helicopter only held twelve soldiers in addition to the four crew and with Alpha, Bravo, six medics, and the eleven men they were going to retrieve, it would be a tight fit. With a range of four hundred and thirty-seven miles, they would need to refuel inflight twice to reach Dongola which was almost one thousand miles from the base in Djibouti.

Flight time would be close to five hours, which would put them at the drop zone by midnight. With any luck, they would blow the insurgents depot of RPGs and extract their men and the HVT by zero one hundred hours. The return trip would not be to Djibouti. They would fly directly to a hospital ship in the Red Sea. Closer, but still a two-plus hour flight.

* * *

 _ **Outskirts of Dongola, Sudan**_

After the constant din of the helicopter engine, the eerie quiet of the hottest and driest regions in the world was welcome. Trent had listened during the briefing about the weather conditions Delta endured while stuck with minimal water. The desert region experienced record highs of one hundred and twenty degrees, and even now at midnight, the temperature hovered in the low eighties.

Dehydration would be his primary concern for all of Delta and the flight crew, and as such he and Alpha's medic, Dennis carried extra saline since they would be the first responders until they got the guys on the birds and in the hands of the other medics.

Bravo along with Dennis moved on the building containing their brothers while Alpha headed for the munitions depot to set the charges. They would wait to blow the ammo dump until after they found and prepped their wounded for transport. The explosion would be a diversion which would allow them to race to the exfil location.

Approaching the demolished building, Jason understood now why none of the hostiles checked it out and would assume anyone inside died. It appeared to be a deathtrap with the way the roof sagged, and only a masonry skeleton remained. The remaining walls, in the soft light of the moon, gave the impression of being ready to fall at any moment.

Halting at a window, since no doors remained passable, Jason signaled the others to stop. He motioned to Brock who came to the front with Cerberus.

Opening a bag which contained a t-shirt of Delta One, obtained from their support team, Brock quietly commanded Cerb, "Seek." As Cerb hopped up into the window, Brock viewed the video feed from the camera attached to his dog's vest.

Jason and Ray peered at the image along with Brock as Trent, Sonny, and Dennis kept their heads on a swivel covering their six. Several minutes later, smiles broke out as they spied movement and recognized Delta One. Cerberus moved around the tiny space which had somehow survived the explosion, and they spotted most of the those they came to rescue. "TOC, Bravo One. Nine of eleven located."

"Copy," Davis replied as she marked off Retriever on their mission board. When Brock related how Cerberus acted and what occurred at the vet, they decided to use dog breeds as codes for the steps of this operation. Aware Clay and another man were in a different location, Lisa wouldn't relax much until they crossed off Bloodhound.

One by one the guys slipped into the tight opening and cautiously followed Cerb's path which was not easy since they were full-grown men and not a small, agile dog. Getting the injured out would be difficult and time-consuming.

* * *

 _ **Munitions Building, Dongola, Sudan**_

Derek and the rest of Alpha team grinned as they overheard Jason's report, but focused on their task. They snuck up on the guards, dispatched them with snapped necks, then entered the small mud building and got right to work upon discovering a significant weapons cache.

As his team began setting charges, John reported, "TOC, Alpha One, Doberman. The fireworks are gonna be bright tonight with over a dozen RPGs, hundreds of AKs, five SAMs, and more ammo than we can count."

Mandy smiled as the leader of Alpha relayed the details. Not only did they have Muneer al-Darwish, which would put a huge dent in his network and operations, but they would also prevent the distribution of all those weapons, saving countless lives.

* * *

 _ **Building in the Outskirts of Dongola, Sudan**_

"Damn glad to see you, Hayes," Dunn's hoarse voice whispered as Jason approached.

Jason went directly to Dunn and took a knee. The senior chief had seen better days. Based on appearances, Dunn downplayed his leg injury. "We'll get you out. Medics are on the helos."

"I'm sorry about your rookie. Droit overheard when I asked. The decision was taken out of our hands. We tried to get to them but …" Dunn sucked in a breath trying to stay conscious. He was a leader and needed to remain strong for his men.

"Where are they? Give us direction to send Cerb." Jason noted Dunn drooping, loss of blood, excessive heat, sleep deprivation, and lack of water all took their toll on the man.

Dennis, Alpha's medic, knelt and ripped open an IV kit to replace Dunn's lost fluids as Brock, Trent, and Ray tended to the other wounded, and Sonny handed out water to everyone.

"South stairwell. My man, Dominic, was with Spenser. Haven't been able to raise either on the comms. Didn't dare yell out and give our position away. No path from here to reach them. Your gonna need to find another way." Dunn stopped to take a sip from the water bottle Jason handed him.

"We'll find both. You hang in there." Jason stood and turned to Ray. "Need you to stay here with Dennis."

"Got it, Boss."

"Sonny, Brock, Trent, let's go. Southside." Jason headed out the way they came. Once outside, they circled the building searching for signs of Clay but being cautious not to go too deep into the building which might collapse at any moment. The level of destruction on the south portion made the north where Dunn and the others were located look habitable by comparison.

"Well, shit. I doubt anyone could survive," Sonny whispered, desolation settling in his heart. _Damn the kid is too fucking young to die. I'm gonna kill me a fucking admiral for sending him into the field without us to watch his back._

Brock halted and opened another bag, one holding a t-shirt of Clay's. After giving Cerberus a sniff, he said, "Seek. Seek."

Cerberus inhaled, allowing the scent of his boy to fill his olfactory senses. He understood his job. _Gotta find my boy._ He began sniffing close to the building, running back and forth seeking a direction for his boy. F _aint … more … more … stronger … here. HERE!_ Cerberus started digging near a small opening created in the wall of the rubble. _Found our boy. Found him. Here._

Brock rushed up to Cerberus. "Good boy." He scratched Cerb behind the ear before lying flat on the ground to peer into the tiny crevice. He spotted a slight movement. "Clay. Clay that you?"

Dominic turned to the sound calling for Spenser. "Eagle, eagle."

"Bravo Five," Brock identified himself.

"Delta Five, Bravo Six is here too, but I can't reach him. We're both trapped," Dominic returned but avoided voicing his fear the rookie died.

"Okay, we'll find a way to you. Might have to dig." Brock was glad to know the kid was there, but the lack of detail and response from Clay worried him.

"Careful … the place is unstable." Dominic leaned back, they came in time for him, and he hoped for Spenser too.

"How are we going to reach them? Doesn't appear to be a way in," Trent stated the obvious as he scanned the walls.

Cerberus continued to sniff then darted further from them until he came to where he caught a scent. He laid down and turned to peer at Brock.

Jason jogged forward to Cerb as Brock stood and followed with the others. Cerberus found them a larger opening, scarcely big enough for a full-sized man to squirm through.

"We need to enlarge this and see if it leads to them," Sonny said and started to move a piece of debris away.

"Hold. Reverse order. Brock, send Cerb in so we know if we have a workable path," Jason commanded. As Brock gave the dog directions, Jason reported, "TOC, Bravo One, Bloodhound. Getting to them will be tricky."

* * *

 _ **Camp Lemonnier Tarmac – DEVGRU Aircraft – TOC**_

"Copy, go careful," Eric directed as he observed Lisa mark off the mission step. Tension in the TOC dropped a tad at the news of finding Clay and Dominic but continued to be high due to the danger presented in reaching them.

Returning to the table, Davis brought up the feed from Cerb's camera after linking in via the satellite. Her grin grew as the pup who bonded with Clay over bullets daringly found a way through the decrepit ruins of what once was a two-story building. Her smile faded when Clay's face came into view as Cerb lay down next to him and whimpered.

Mandy sucked in a ragged breath and bit her lower lip upon viewing the bloody face with closed eyes and the rubble encased body. _Oh my God, is he dead?_

Admiral Droit stood in the background observing with his arms crossed. Most would say he ordered Clay Spenser to go because he had a desire for glory or despised Ash Spenser, but they were dead wrong. Delta was down one man, and al-Darwish was too valuable a target to miss the opportunity to bring in. The death and destruction the arms dealer caused must be stopped.

Spenser's kid would, if he survived this mission, most likely surpass his old man and wipe out the SOBs footprints. In a few years, when someone spoke the name Spenser, the first thought would be the younger and better version. The kid possessed things the elder Spenser lacked … loyalty and concern for others. He also had Jason Hayes teaching him the ropes.

Droit also heard the scuttlebutt about the Camp Lemonnier commander, Captain Fekete, claiming he should've been able to send in his men for the original op. He despised the politics at this level. The truth was quite simple … DEVGRU was the right team to send in for this mission. They couldn't afford to lose al-Darwish.

When the shit hit the fan, Fekete turned a deaf ear to his request for an extraction team and Droit was forced to wait to bring over Alpha and Bravo. Once this mission was done, he planned to make sure the chain of command was made aware of the disgusting and disingenuous attitude Fekete displayed for dedicated sailor's lives.

* * *

 _ **Building in the Outskirts of Dongola, Sudan**_

Jason reached Clay first after a daunting fifteen minutes of painstakingly navigating the path Cerberus found for them. Several times they were delayed because they had to stop to shore up a wall with available materials or dig through the debris to enlarge the opening.

He shone the light on the kid's face, and his first look depressed him. Devoid of emotion, having locked them away to maintain his calm, Jason tugged off a glove as Sonny entered behind him. "Check on Dominic. I've got Clay."

Disliking the order, but complying, Sonny moved to Dominic. "Well, a fine mess you've gotten yourself into, Dom," Sonny deadpanned.

Dominic peered up. "Spenser pushed me to safety … well, relative safety when everything went to hell. Is he alive? Since he screamed yesterday, I haven't heard anything from him. He never once responded to my questions either."

Releasing a held breath, Jason reported to Trent as he came alongside him. "Weak and thready pulse."

"I'm not going to be able to do anything for him until all this crap is off him. I'm gonna check on Dominic while you work on unburying him," Trent said then moved off to assess the other SEAL though he wished he could treat Clay right away.

While Trent tended to Dominic, Sonny removed the heavy debris pinning Delta Five's legs. Brock and Jason each grasped one side of a huge slab laying across the kid's back and using considerable effort they managed to lift the massive masonry block.

Dozens of small creatures scurried out, running across Brock's boots and he almost dropped his side back onto Clay. As they tossed the mud and stone chunk to the side, Brock said, "Damn, I hate rats."

"Dongola gerbils," Sonny said as he kicked one away from him.

"Rats, gerbils, who cares … all rodents," Brock groused as he crouched to clear bricks and rocks from Clay's legs. "Aw damn. Trent, one injury for sure. Those disgusting things chewed on his calf."

"Probably the least of his worries," Trent declared without emotions, disassociating and keeping his head in medic mode. _I must do what is necessary to save Clay's life. I'll be no use to him if I become emotional. He depends on me doing my dead-level best._

As Trent popped Dominic's dislocated shoulder into place, the man groaned, but other than that Dominic made no sounds. Trent put that arm in a sling, started an IV, and splinted the fractured arm an inflatable cast. Once Dominic's legs were freed, Trent checked for more damaged bones and luckily found none.

Sonny shifted to helping Brock and Jason uncover Clay. Cerberus remained at Clay's face staring at his boy. Trent stood when he finished with Dominic, and shooed Cerb away, receiving a slightly disgruntled growl from the dog, and began his assessment on Clay.

Exhaling sharply, Trent noted the dried drainage which came from Clay's ear, likely the result of tympanic membrane perforation. The lacerations to his face were all superficial but had appeared worse on first inspection because head wounds bleed a lot.

Leaving Clay's helmet on for now, safer for him during exfil, Trent couldn't check for other head wounds but noted the no dents, which boded well. He identified the dislocation of Clay's left shoulder, hard to miss the deformation of the joint.

"Jace, I need you to hold his head steady for me. I must put a cervical collar on him, and we need to take slow, deliberate moves when we turn him over and onto the stretcher due to possible spinal cord or disc injuries."

Moving to assist, Jason asked, "How bad is he?"

"Not good. Severely dehydrated. Internal injuries are likely after having an entire roof dumped on his back. The dyspnea worries me most though."

"What the hell is that?" Sonny tossed more masonry off Clay.

"Diminished breath sounds. Possibly due to a punctured lung, a diaphragmatic rupture, or the compression he endured for the past few days," Trent explained as put on the neck brace. "After we turn him, I'm going to reset his dislocation. Will make it less painful for Clay if he wakes while we are carrying him."

The four worked diligently to dislodge Clay from his tomb. Trent checked for obvious broken bones, and besides the possible fractured ribs, none of his limbs appeared to be busted. Holding him in four places, head, shoulders, waist, and legs, they gently rolled Clay onto a stretcher after clearing the area next to him of stones and rocks.

As Trent gripped Clay's arm, preparing to pop the joint into place, the kid's eyelids fluttered and opened, only to slam shut an instant later.

"Clay. Hey, buddy. Open your eyes again," Trent said.

"Little bro, show us those baby blues," Sonny encouraged, displaying rare tender emotions.

Jason tapped Clay's cheek lightly. "Open, now."

Trent decided to reset Clay's joint. The scream emitted from the kid disconcerted each of them.

"Fuck!" Sonny exclaimed, distraught over the kid's condition and reaction to Trent's action. "He's hurt real bad, no dislocation would cause him to make a sound like that."

Clay bit his lower lip as the dagger-like pain diminished. He blinked open. The light shining in his eyes felt like someone stabbing them with pins and then pouring salt in them. He closed them again, his mind not able to take much more pain. Clay moaned as his arm was moved to his chest.

Attempting to speak around his swollen tongue and parched throat he murmured, "hurs."

"I can't give you anything with your depressed respiration. Can't chance it." Trent hated that he couldn't give him morphine, but as he said, he would not risk Clay's ability to breathe to provide pain relief … not until they were on the helos and had oxygen available.

In agony, Clay's mind finally registered what he saw. He wasn't dreaming. Squinting, he opened his eyes and spotted Trent, Sonny, Brock, and Jason. His brothers were here. _They came for me._

Jason said, "We're taking you home, Kid."

Clay stared. He could swear Jason spoke, but he heard nothing. He watched their mouths, they all moved but his world remained silent. He began to panic, and his respirations became erratic.

"Hey, hey, calm down." Jason put a hand on Clay's cheek to provide human contact, hoping to reduce the kid's distress.

The light too intense, causing his pain to spike to levels beyond ten … more like one hundred, Clay shut his eyes again. Speaking difficult due to his discomfort, dread, and desiccated throat, Clay managed, "Ca … n't." A pinprick on his arm told him Trent started an IV.

"Wet a rag and let him suck on it to moisten his mouth and lips," Trent instructed as he set the saline drip.

Sonny and Brock continued to tie the straps which would hold Clay as still as possible as they trekked out of here and to the exfil location while Jason did as Trent requested.

Coolness touching his lips caused Clay to open up. He drew in the damp fabric and greedily sucked the moisture.

"You like that, good huh?" Jason imbued calmness into his tone.

"Bravo One, Alpha One. We're all set to decimate the weaponry. How close are you to being ready to exfil?"

Jason glanced at Trent.

"I need another two before we move him. We'll need to take it slow out. Can't risk jarring him and getting the stretcher through some of the openings is not going to be easy," Trent answered wishing he could medicate Clay. The kid would be in agony unless he blacked out from pain … which he sort-of hoped he would.

"Bravo Two, what is the situation with the others?" Jason asked.

"All prepared, but we'll require four of Alpha to help carry the wounded," Ray responded.

"Alpha One, send four to Bravo Two. TOC, we'll be at the exfil location in fifteen mics."

"Copy. The birds finished refueling so will be ready and waiting," Eric communicated.

Brock helped Dominic up and began to exit, followed by Cerberus.

Trent finished up with Clay, rewetting the cloth, he said, "This is all you can have for now. We're going to move, and it is gonna hurt like a son of a bitch. Bite down if the pain becomes too much." Getting no response, Trent tapped Clay's cheek to rouse him. "Did you hear me?"

Cracking his eyes open, Clay focused on Trent's moving mouth. He spat out the rag.

"Hey, I said to bite on that not spit it out."

"Hut?"

The off tone of Clay's voice had Trent taking a moment to reassess him. "Can you hear me?" The scrunched eyes of concentration worried Trent. His suspicions were confirmed with Clay's words.

"Moth moos, no thound."

"Aw, Fuck. Is he deaf?" Sonny blurted out.

"Think his eardrums ruptured. Hopefully only a temporary condition." Trent pulled out his phone and brought up his text messages. He typed **Gonna hurt like hell. Can't give you anything yet. Bite the rag, hostiles close. Blink once if you understand.** After Clay blinked, Trent put the fabric into Clay's mouth, and the kid closed his eyes.

Clay prepared as best he could for the onslaught of increased pain. The initial lifting didn't cause much more, but as they moved through the tight openings, his agony shot through the roof. He held back his screams, biting down hard, but he couldn't keep entirely quiet as he moaned.

* * *

 _ **Exfil**_

"TOC, Bravo One. What do the eyes in the sky show?" Jason's mind was several steps ahead while still in the present as they grouped up on the north side of the building. The kid managed to keep mostly quiet, but Jason wished Clay blacked out when he spotted the grimace and heard his moans.

"So far, still quiet. No movement in your vicinity," Davis relayed.

"Copy, New Years is coming early. We're lighting the fireworks." Jason nodded to Alpha One before he bent to grasp one corner of Clay's litter.

Though they did a two-man carry due to the narrow passage out of the south, a four-man carry would be smoother as they hustled to the exfil point. He, Trent, Sonny, and Brock would take Clay. Delta Two and Six with Alpha Three and Four would transport Delta One. With Dunn's severe leg injury and with the bulk of Sonny and height of Brock, Dunn required four men to lift him and prevent further damage.

Alpha Five and one of the downed helo crew would each convey one of the dead pilots. Delta Four would likewise be hoisted on Alpha Four's shoulder due to his shattered ankle. Both Dominic and the crew member with a concussion were walking wounded, who would be in the middle of the group along with Alpha Six who guarded their HVT … the whole reason for the damned mission. That left Ray to take point and John, Alpha One, to defend their rear during their mad dash to exfil.

They set off, just as the first of many explosions lit up the night sky and shook surrounding buildings. One thing in their favor, the ammo depot was in the opposite direction they needed to travel and far enough from them they didn't need to worry about falling debris.

In front, Ray took out two armed hostiles running towards them before they managed to take any shots. The gunfire drew others from their homes. Each man carrying a stretcher held on with one hand and maintained a hold on their weapon with the other. A good thing, as Sonny needed to deal with another man who got off a round.

The elite SEALs sprinted with determination. They would all be leaving here come hell or high water. No man would be left behind … not even their deceased. The families of the pilots deserved to have their loved ones returned to them to say goodbye.

Clay clenched his jaw. Awash in pain, every stride bringing him new agony, he wished the blackness would take him away again, but fate treated him cruelly, and he remained conscious.

"AAARGH!" Brock yelled as a bullet hit the grip of the stretcher splintering the wood and embedding fragments in his hand, causing him to lose his grasp.

As the tumbling litter, now only held by three of four crashed to the ground, an explosion of pain ricocheted through Clay sending him into oblivion.

"Fuckity, fuck, fuck!" Brock shouted as he clasped the almost destroyed handle with his bloodied hand. He ignored his discomfort and his foul discourse was not related to his wound, but because he caused the kid more pain by dropping him.

"He's out now. Sucked how it happened, but the best thing," Jason called out to Brock.

The sound of rotors was music to everyone's ears. They crested a dune, and three Sea Hawks awaited them.

* * *

 _ **Inflight**_

Bravo team ended up in Chalk One. Chalk Two took onboard Delta One, Two, Six, plus Alpha One, Two, Three, Six, and the HVT. The remainder of the men loaded into Chalk Three, and each helicopter also carried two medics. Within moments of arriving, they were airborne, and the crew manning mounted guns on either side, dealt with hostiles still shooting at them while the others situated those they rescued and recovered.

"TOC, Bravo One. Dalmatian," Jason shouted over the din of the engines and gunfire to report the last mission code. He turned his attention to Clay as the medics descended on Spenser with scissors to cut his clothes off.

His right hand clenched as an image of Nate popped into his head distorting his vision of Clay. Pushing the disturbing thought away, Jason rubbed his thigh. _Hold on, kid. Stay with us._

Ray watched Jason, knowing where his mind went. Leaning in close, he said, "Clay's not Nate. We got the kid in time."

Jason nodded but wished they didn't need to retrieve him in the first place. _The kid should've been on R and R like the rest of us._

Trent shifted forward and undid Clay's helmet strap after helping to remove his vest. He carefully slipped it off and began to probe for injuries as the other medics cut off Spenser's shirts revealing significant bruising.

Sonny finished plucking out the larger splinters and wrapping Brock's hand in gauze, cognizant his teammate would dismiss additional care until they arrived on the hospital ship. Some of the smaller and deeply embedded fragments would need to be dug out with tweezers. "What can I do to help?" Sonny asked as he focused on Clay.

"Get his boots off," one medic said.

Repositioning, Sonny began untying one and gave a nod to Brock as he began unlacing the other a bit awkwardly one-handed, but he didn't shoo him away because Sonny was aware how Brock felt right now. Brock would be struggling with the same type of guilt he had when he dropped, or rather, landed on Clay when he had the kidney infection and puncture in his back.

Becoming semi-conscious, disoriented and delirious with pain, his lungs burning for air, Clay became combative as he felt hands tugging on his legs. _I'm drowning. Dad, let go. Dad, you're dragging me down. I can't breathe._

"Hold him still!" Trent hollered as Clay began frantically kicking.

The increased holds as Jason and Ray joined in the effort to restrain their discombobulated teammate before he did more damage to himself only intensified Clay's struggles. Getting his still booted foot free, as Brock's hold diminished due to his injured hand, Clay kicked out hard.

Caught off guard by the swift and decisive action, Clay's boot struck Brock mid-chest, knocking him backward. The nothingness behind him as he flew toward the open door caused Brock's arms to flail, seeking a handhold to prevent himself from falling to his death.

Yanked forward and down, Brock gasped for breath as he peered up at his saviors … Sonny and Jason. Once he got a lungful of air, he wheezed out. "Thanks. Not too keen on diving out of a helo."

All three returned to holding Clay down. Each man wearing a grim expression until Trent said, "At least we know he isn't paralyzed."

Fighting up from the depths his dad dragged him to, Clay's eyes opened, but instead of seeing his teammates, seven images of his detested father greeted him. _I won't let you drown me. I know what_ _family is now. You discarded me, but they never will. I'm not disposable._ His world, previously devoid of sound, burst into a cacophony of disharmonious voices, indistinguishable as one shouted on top of the other.

"Grab his leg."

"Shit, he's strong."

"Hold still."

"Well, fuck! Quit fighting us."

"Stand down!"

"He's crashing."

His mouth moving like a fish out of water, unable to get a breath in, Clay's eyes locked on the closest Daddy Dearest image as Brian's words came to him. _Some things you can't fight, so you don't. Give up._ He ceased all movement, going limp. The image of his dad dissipated and was replaced by Trent's face. His blue eyes attempted to convey goodbye before they closed.

Fear enveloped five men as three medics set to work throwing around words which made it clear they could still lose the kid.

"Diminished respiration."

"Tension pneumothorax?"

"Might've punctured a lung."

"Blood pressure dropping, pulse increasing."

"Decompression needed now. Give me a Heimlich valve kit."

Ray prayed silently and Cerberus whimpered but stayed out of the way seeking out Brock, as Trent inserted tubing attached to a valve into Clay's chest to relieve the trapped air and pressure to inflate Clay's collapsed lung.

Jason sat back, giving Trent the required room to save the kid. The desolation in Clay's eyes before they shut worried him. _Spenser gave up … he was saying goodbye. Not good. After all his fight … his dogged determination and drive … why would he meekly give up?_

The remainder of the two-plus hour flight passed in relative silence, the only sounds coming from engines and Trent and the medics as they cared for Clay.

* * *

 _ **Three Days Later - Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, Germany**_

Jason absently petted Cerberus behind the ears. Again, they had to sneak the dog in the hospital once Clay was moved out of ICU into a standard room. Luckily the floor nurse loved dogs and believed they were beneficial for patient recovery, especially when they had a strong connection with a human. She recognized the bond Clay and Cerb shared as the pup curled up at Clay's feet and refused to be dislodged.

The past few days filled them all with stress. They had been informed by the doctor Clay coded on the table as they repaired his lung and they had to use the defibrillator on him twice to restart the kid's heart. To help his lungs, Spenser had been put on a ventilator for two days, but now he was breathing on his own.

Their current worry, which would not diminish until Clay woke, was he might be deaf. The explosion or the physical trauma had ruptured both eardrums, and they were told, the deafness might be permanent, resolve immediately, or gradually over time.

Sonny bounded into the room, his voice louder than it should be, "Kid, wake up yet?"

"No. Keep it down," Trent admonished.

"Why? Perhaps my delightful voice will wake sleeping beauty." Sonny grinned as he stopped at the end of the bed. His devil-may-care attitude a façade to cover his distress.

"When he wakes, Clay will likely be suffering from the concussion. Headache, nausea, and dizziness. Don't want to create a situation to exacerbate those symptoms," Brock said from his place on the floor in the corner.

The entire team demanded they be allowed to stay in Germany, and thankfully Blackburn came through for them. Otherwise, they would all be facing discipline for disobeying a direct order and demotions, because they weren't leaving without the kid. Their conversation continued, but at a lower volume, almost whispers in deference to Clay's condition, none of them wanting to cause him more discomfort.

 _Floating in a calm sea, Clay breathed in the salty air. The water around him no longer dark and dangerous, he delighted in the sensation of rocking with the gentle waves. He glanced around at the crystal blue water and smiled as one after another of his brothers popped up beside him._

 _Jason arrived first and said, "Damned glad you didn't drown."_

 _"You fought hard. Proud of you, kid," Ray chimed in._

 _Brock and Cerberus appeared next, and though strange he distinctly heard the dog say, "Found my boy. Will you teach Brock to speak dog? He took me to the vet, and she thought I had Dog PTSD. How dumb is that?"_

 _Noticing the bandage on Brock's hand, Clay asked, "How'd you get hurt?"_

 _"Sorry I dropped you," Brock said instead of answering him._

 _"Huh?"_

 _"Your rib punctured your lung when the litter dropped because I lost hold. You almost died." Brock bowed his head._

 _Sonny swam over. "You don't know that, Brock. Could've been when Clay's despicable dad was trying to drag him down to Davey's Locker." Turning a mega-watt grin on Clay he added, "Damned, glad you fought with dogged determination. The demented SOB can't have you. You're ours now and we ain't letting you drown. No matter where you are or what scrap you get into, we will always come for you."_

 _Spying a pod of dolphins, Clay grinned. "Bet you all can't keep up with me. He dove under the water and kicked to propel himself forward. Reaching out, he grasped a dorsal fin and hitched a ride. As he and his brothers, his chosen family, swam with the mammals, repeatedly diving to enjoy the dazzling beauty of the reef below, a sense of peace he had never known settled around Clay._

"Hey, he's moving his feet. Think he is coming around? Should we be worried he will be combative again?" Sonny tensed, ready to act if necessary.

Noting the rapid eyes movement, Trent shook his head. "He's dreaming and if the smile is any indication it is a good one."

Sonny relaxed, blew out a breath, and settled back into his chair. "What ya think he is dreaming about?"

"Well, with that grin, most likely Stella," Jason chuckled for the first time in days. "I'm gonna grab something to eat and coffee, back in a bit." He rose and strode out.

Thirty minutes later, Jason returned with a six pack of Diebels Pils brand beer and a dozen donuts. He placed both on the rolling table then twisted the lid off one and sat. After taking a draw, he grabbed a donut as the others dug in too.

A pleasant aroma drew Clay out of his sleep. He cracked open his eyes, the pounding in his head at a manageable level. The dim surroundings told him he was in a hospital, but how and when he got here, he didn't know. He spotted the donut box as the scent wafted to him.

His stomach growled watching the others chow down on them. Clay's voice came out soft, his throat dry and irritated, "Can I have a donut?"

Five heads whipped to Clay, as Cerberus lifted his. _My boy is awake._ He gently pawed his boy's unchewed calf. _Damned rats tried to eat you._

"Sorry, Kid. Your digestive system isn't ready for donuts. How about a few delicious ice chips?" Trent whispered.

"You don't have to shout at me?" Clay grimaced as he slowly lifted a hand to rub his ear.

"He's not deaf!" Sonny whooped too loudly and received a punch to his arm from Brock, unfortunately with his injured hand, causing both to wince.

When Clay reopened his eyes and the pain lines relaxed, Trent lowered his voice even more. "Glad you can hear. Doc said things could go either way. Sounds will level out as your eardrums heal." He spooned ice into Clay's open mouth.

Clay turned his eyes to Jason. "You came. Sorry, not my choice to go with Delta."

Jason laid a hand on Clay's arm and kept his voice scarcely above a whisper. "I'm aware. Admiral Droit's decision."

"Dom … did he?" Clay opened for another spoonful.

"He made it. Said you saved his life. He wanted to help you but was pinned down too. Broken arm and dislocated shoulder."

"Anyone else make it?" Images of the rush for cover, dragging one of the pilots, firing at hostiles, racing up the stairs, and then darkness and ungodly pain all played in Clay's mind.

"Yeah. Everyone except for two pilots. Dunn will receive a medical discharge though. Infection set in and they had to amputate the lower half of his leg," Ray shared in the same soft tone.

"Damn, he was a first-rate leader." Clay closed his eyes. "Me? What's the damage?"

"You'll be back with us in no time, Little bro," Sonny answered, not wanting the kid to consider he wouldn't return. "We'll rehab you properly. I can dazzle Betty again with my presence." He gave Clay a broad grin.

"Thought she dumped you. Dumbo woman, you're a decent guy," Clay murmured as he drifted off.

Brock chuckled. "Don't listen to a word Spenser said. He too drugged up to know what he's saying."

The team launched into razzing each other as their mood lifted knowing the kid cheated death once again.

.

* * *

 **AN:** Reviews make my day, so a huge THANKS to everyone who takes a few seconds to tell me what you thought of the story.

Hope you enjoyed D. Now back to writing my next published novel ... OUTCAST: Trust, Friendship, and Injustice, which is full of action and both physical and emotional whump like all my novels. OUTCAST takes place in the present and in Dan's past ... showing how he ended up living with Bella and why he broke with Broderick tradition and became a police officer instead of joining the military, and how his decision comes back to bit him in the present day.

E and F prompts welcome. Contributors to D words are ...

\- darts from Juniper, Victoria-Annxx  
\- dad from Poolie, Tigerlily  
\- dagger from Tigerlily  
\- damaged from Victoria-Annxx Liz  
\- danger from NetMyne01, Liz  
\- dare/daring from Poolie, Liz, MusketeerAdventure,  
\- dark from Lunary  
\- darkness from Juniper  
\- dates (fruit) from Megan Rachel  
\- dates/dating (people) from Megan Rachel  
\- days from Jessiness5134, Lunary  
\- deactivated from Juniper  
\- dead from Crazykids121  
\- deadly from MusketeerAdventure  
\- deaf/deafness from badgerbabe, Princess Of The Kingdom, NetMyne01, Poolie, Tigerlily, EmmaRose, Solstice321  
\- deal from Crazykids121  
\- death from Lunary  
\- decoy from Tigerlily, EmmaRose  
\- dedicated from Liz  
\- deep from EmmaRose  
\- defend from Juniper  
\- defibrilator from Juniper, kenyancougar  
\- dehydration from Chgrgal, Juniper, kenyancougar, Poolie, Lunary, Solstice321, Victoria-Annxx  
\- delirious/delirium from badgerbabe, Juniper, Princess Of The Kingdom, Shellymae88, Tigerlily, EmmaRose, Effie17  
\- demanded from Jessiness5134  
\- demented from Jessiness5134  
\- dentist from Jessiness5134  
\- depressed/depression from badgerbabe, Victoria-Annxx, kenyancougar  
\- descending or descent from Victoria-Annxx  
\- desert from NetMyne01  
\- destroyed from Shellymae88, EmmaRose  
\- destruction from Jessiness5134  
\- deteriorating from Juniper  
\- determination from Liz  
\- devastation from Liz  
\- diabetes from kenyancougar  
\- diagnostic from Jessiness5134  
\- diaphragm from Victoria-Annxx  
\- diaphram from AeroWright  
\- digestive system from Victoria-Annxx  
\- diggers/digging from Megan Rachel  
\- direction from kenyancougar  
\- disagreement from Poolie, Solstice321  
\- discipline from NetMyne01  
\- discomfort from EmmaRose  
\- disgusted from Liz  
\- dishonesty from Poolie  
\- dislocation from kenyancougar  
\- dismayed from Victoria-Annxx  
\- dismemberment from Victoria-Annxx  
\- disoriented from Poolie, Victoria-Annxx  
\- distress from Tigerlily  
\- dive/diving from Juniper, kenyancougar, NetMyne01, Poolie, Lunary, Crazykids121, Solstice321  
\- diversion from NetMyne01  
\- divorce from Lunary  
\- dizziness from badgerbabe, Juniper, kenyancougar, Poolie, Solstice321, Victoria-Annxx  
\- DNA from Victoria-Annxx  
\- doctor from Solstice321  
\- dog from IndyElora, Elise Deschat, Megan Rachel, kenyancougar, Lunary, Crazykids121, EmmaRose, Solstice321  
\- dojo from Jessiness5134  
\- dolphins from Megan Rachel  
\- donuts from Victoria-Annxx  
\- doom from Lunary  
\- doors from Megan Rachel, Lunary  
\- doubt from Solstice321  
\- down from Crazykids121  
\- dragged from Shellymae88  
\- drama-queen from Jessiness5134  
\- dream from MusketeerAdventure  
\- drive/driving from kenyancougar, Lunary, Crazykids121  
\- drone from kenyancougar  
\- dropped from Shellymae88  
\- drowning from Juniper, Lunary, Tigerlily, EmmaRose, Victoria-Annxx  
\- drugged from Guest, Juniper, Shellymae88, Victoria-Annxx, NetMyne01, Poolie  
\- drunk from Crazykids121  
\- dry from Crazykids121  
\- dumbo from kenyancougar  
\- dumbstruck from WinchesterWorshiper  
\- dumped from kenyancougar  
\- dust from Victoria-Annxx


	5. Endangered in Ecuador

**Endangered in Ecuador**

* * *

 _ **Undisclosed Location**_

"Ray, Clay, go high. Create a path for us," Jason ordered.

"Copy," both responded crouching as they worked their way through the gully which provided the team cover.

"The Ay brothers at it again," Sonny quipped.

"Ay brothers?" Brock asked as he exchanged his empty clip for a full one.

"Yeah, Ray and Clay … both names end in AY." Sonny explained as he scanned the area to the right of them, aimed and took out an enemy combatant.

A hundred yards later, Clay and Ray crawled up and out, staying low once gaining their feet they ran for the hill, taking cover behind brush as they went. Gunfire erupted again, effectively pinning Bravo team and preventing them from moving on their target.

Scrambling up the hill, Clay fought against the ringing in his ear, an intermittent problem for his still-healing ruptured eardrums. Reaching the top, he lay flat and peered down his scope.

"Bravo One, Bravo Two and Six in position. Path is coming up." Ray sighted a target as he said to Clay, "You focus on the east, I got west."

"Copy." Clay took out five in quick succession. He grinned as the rest of the team rushed from cover and made it to the building. Clay fired three more rounds as targets came out of hiding ready to ambush the guys as they exited with the hostage.

"Exfil," Jason ordered as he, Sonny, Brock, and Trent ran like the wind with the hostage they rescued.

Clay stood along with Ray, and they started down the hill at a rapid pace. Halfway down, Clay's equilibrium wavered causing him to lose his balance. One wrong foot placement and he toppled over. Ray attempted to seize Spenser's arm but missed.

Head over heels, Clay hurtled the rest of the way down. He groaned and lay still as he landed at the foot of the hill.

"Bravo One, Bravo Six is down," Ray called out as he scrambled down to him.

"Damn, I shouldn't have let him participate," Jason grumbled as they changed direction.

Trent sprinted to Clay and went to his knee, lifting his NODs and flicking on a flashlight. Within a moment five more lights joined his to illuminate Clay.

"What's the damage?" Jason asked as he unhooked his helmet and took a knee.

"I'm fine," Clay answered as he recovered his breath. The last rock he slammed into stole his wind. He pushed to a sitting position.

"What the hell happened?" Jason demanded after seeing no significant injuries. He stood and raked a hand through his hair, kicking himself for allowing Clay to run this exercise with them.

Clay hesitated, not wanting to acknowledge the real issue, but his shoulders slumped and told the truth because if he lied, the team would find out and he didn't want to betray their trust, even if it meant he would be sidelined longer. "Lost my balance."

"Ringing in your ears?" Trent asked.

"Yeah." Clay took Jason's offered hand to rise, then wobbled and listed to one side. Sonny prevented him from falling with a strong grip on his elbow, as he had done many times in the past month.

Blackburn strode over. "Excellent work until the end. Spenser alright?"

"Yeah, he tripped on a rock," Jason stated. The kid made amazing progress in healing since they rescued him from Dongola, but his perforated eardrums still wreaked havoc with his equilibrium on occasion.

Eric nodded, though he understood the real problem. "Well, let's wrap up the exercise." He eyed Spenser, "And you stop by the doc to be checked out before you go home tonight."

"I got him covered," Trent asserted.

Shaking his head, Eric said, "Not this time. Spenser, the team doctor has the name of an Ear Nose and Throat specialist he wants to send you to. We need you back in action, so you will visit the ENT."

"Copy," Clay replied as he took a step. Thankfully his equilibrium stabilized.

* * *

 _ **Bravo Equipment Cage**_

Easy banter flew between the men of Bravo on their way back to their building but petered out when Clay broke off from them heading for the infirmary. Exhausted from the night of training, five members shambled into their equipment area to divest themselves of gear and clean their weapons.

Sonny dropped Clay's pack outside the kid's locker before going to his own.

Jason set his weapons on the shelf and turned to Trent. "This ENT, he any good?"

"She, and yes." Trent slumped into his chair.

"What are we going to do if the kid's ears don't heal properly?" Brock asked as he put a bowl of water and kibble down for Cerberus.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Don't want to lose him, but if he can't stay upright, then …" Jason trailed off.

He truly didn't wish to replace Clay, but his team could only operate as five men for so long. He hoped the new doc would provide a better outlook than 'it takes time for eardrums to heal and there are no guarantees he won't suffer long-term equilibrium issues and tinnitus,' which the doctors thus far had stated.

Sonny slammed his fist into his pack. He didn't like the idea of replacing the kid with someone else from Green Team. They had gelled as a team, and Spenser was an asset, much as he hated to admit the kid had grown on him. He still loved to give him a ration of shit, but what big brother didn't harass a younger brother … and the rookie to boot.

In an edgy mood, Sonny set about dismantling and cleaning his gun. He listened as Ray, Jason, and Trent discussed the probably of Clay's extended absence. _Well, this sucks the big one._

* * *

 _ **Parking Lot**_

Clay gripped the fencing as he staggered again. He didn't bother going to the equipment cage, not wanting to face the others. The doctor cleaned out the embedded dirt and tiny pebbles from his jaw, a result of his embarrassing fall.

He lifted his head and contemplated the distance to his car, wondering if he could make it without face planting … again. The walk from the infirmary to here had been slow, and he toppled over twice. Clay drew in a deep breath and started forward, determined to make it without going down.

His gait made him appear drunk to anyone who might be observing. Things got worse, not better after his trip down the knoll. The ringing in his ears grew more pronounced, playing havoc with his balance and gave him a massive headache.

Making it three-quarters of the way, he went down. His hands and knees caught him before he kissed the asphalt. Worried someone from Bravo, or anyone, would catch sight of him, he crawled the rest of the way and sat with his back against his tire.

Clay gripped his head between his hands and squeezed. Nausea rose as the bells tolled louder in his brain. _How the hell am I going to get home? I can't drive, and I can't call Stella since she needs to be up to teach class tomorrow._

Reaching into his pocket, Clay realized he didn't have his keys, and he still wore his uniform. Everything he needed was in his equipment locker. "Damn! Maybe I'll sleep here."

* * *

 _ **Bravo Equipment Cage**_

Blackburn strode in. "We have a situation. TOC in five minutes." He stopped and glanced at Spenser's cage. "He back from the doc yet?"

"Nope. Clay isn't going on a mission with us, is he?" Jason asked.

"No, he isn't cleared for field work, but we could use his language skills at TOC for this one."

Trent trotted to the door. "I'll swing by the infirmary and grab him."

Jason eyed Eric. "What are you up to?"

"Walk with me." Blackburn pivoted and exited with Hayes following him. Once they were out of earshot of the others, he said, "Spenser's got a lot to offer, even if he doesn't make it back to the field. I want to give him a taste of where he might apply his skills."

"I'm not giving up on him. It's only been a month. The original doctor said it could take up to three months for him to heal. I don't want him getting it into his head he is finished. I want him focused on recovery only."

"Jace, you're doing him a disservice if you don't show him options."

"This isn't an option yet!"

Eric sighed. "It's a way for you to keep him close and keep an eye on him. At least for this mission."

Jason scowled as he considered the merit of Eric's words. Stella had been quite busy lately. She had a life, Jason got that, but she let the kid drive by himself today. Not something he should be doing with intermittent ringing and dizziness. "Alright. He comes, but you make it clear to him this is a one-off thing, and you expect him back in the field."

"Okay. I can do that … both purposes will be served." Eric took his cell and placed it in the holder before he pulled open the door to the tactical operations center.

Trent sprinted towards them. "Jace, he isn't there. Doc said he left thirty minutes ago."

Raking a hand through his hair, Jason muttered, "Where the hell did he go?"

Ray halted next to the group. "He didn't come back to the cage, so he didn't change or grab his keys or phone."

"Could've called Stella to pick him up," Brock suggested joining them.

"Nah, pretty boy told me earlier she has a heavy load and is staying at her place since it is closer. It would be a long drive, and he wouldn't call her. Perhaps a cab?" Sonny said.

"Trent, Brock, go check the parking lot. If you find him bring him here. If not, well, I'll call Derek to search for him." Jason rammed his phone into one of the slots, ticked off and a bit worried Clay didn't return to their lockers.

As Brock and Trent hurried off with Cerberus, the others entered the room.

* * *

 _ **Parking Lot**_

Cerberus raced forward, straight to Clay's car. "Woof, woof!" _I found him! Found our boy._ He nudged his boy's elbow and whined.

Stirring, not realizing he nodded off, Clay found a furry face close to his. "Hey, Cerb." He reached out and scratched the pup behind the ears; aware Brock would be close behind. He peered up as Trent and Brock appeared.

"What the hell you doing out here on the ground?" Trent said as he crouched.

"Well, you know thought I'd catch the lunar eclipse," Clay responded with a smart-aleck tone.

"Idiot!" Trent noted Clay wince. "Headache?"

"Bells of St. Mary going off in my ears. So yeah."

"I'll get you something for the pain once we are in TOC."

"Why am I going to TOC?" Clay allowed the guys to pull him to his feet. The dizziness remained, and he put a hand on his trunk to steady himself.

"Blackburn wants you there." Trent took one of Clay's arms and slung it over his shoulder, not giving the kid an opportunity to resist. "Brock, go grab my kit from my locker and meet us there. Let Jace know we found him, but we're taking it slow."

"Got it." Brock turned heel and ran, but Cerberus stayed next to Clay.

As Trent walked Clay, he said, "You gotta quit being so exasperating. You hurt, you come to me. I'll take the pain away. We all understand this is going to take time and there is no shame in needing our help. Were you planning on taking a cab?"

"No, was gonna drive, but I forgot my keys." Clay stumbled along. "Stop … gotta …"

The need apparent to Trent, he dragged Clay to the grass near them and put the kid on his knees right before he hurled. If Clay was in this bad of shape, Blackburn might change his mind about taking the kid with them wherever they were headed.

* * *

 _ **Aircraft En Route to Ecuador**_

The painkillers Trent gave him wore off shortly after take-off because they waited several hours for the green light to go. Clay didn't want to bother the medic for more since all of Bravo except him now slept. The sway of a hammock didn't appeal to him since nausea wouldn't abate. So he moved to a corner, sat, pulled his knees close to his chest, crossed his arms on the knees, and laid his head on them. Oh, and he set a bucket near him in case he needed to puke again.

Blackburn's briefing didn't take long, and although he had a difficult time paying attention and hearing, he got the gist of the mission. A radical group of environmentalists took several employees of Enterprise Energy hostage and demanded the company cease operation claiming their proposed plans for a hydroelectrical plant was a violation of ecosystem rights. Ecuador was the first country in the world to recognize legally enforceable Rights of Nature.

However, the extremists believed the government was not doing enough to protect the environment, so they took matters into their own hands. They were involved because three of the five hostages were American and the Ecuadorian Armed Forces asked for their assistance in a joint op.

His role, if he could stand straight and not hurl was to liaison with their counterparts because neither Eric or Lisa spoke Spanish and Ellis was not with them, off on some other CIA gig.

Clay lifted his head when Cerberus nudged him. "Hey, boy." The constant drone of the engine hurt his ears, and the little foam plugs he put in didn't seem to knock down the decibels much. He glanced in Trent's direction and considered waking him.

The lecture he received from Jace, Trent, and Sonny for attempting to leave by himself and not asking for help still rumbled through his mind. Part of him was surprised Jason allowed him to come, though he would not be in the field, so that made a little sense. Privately, he was glad to be here, although he wanted to be going with them into the jungle because teasing Sonny about all the things which might kill him was just too fun.

Pushing himself up, needing relief and realizing he would be in for another major sermon if he didn't ask, Clay started for Trent. Halfway there he noticed Lisa digging through one of the larger equipment boxes. She didn't appear happy in the least. In fact, she had been rummaging around in several boxes by the state of the gear.

"Can I help you find something?" Clay offered.

Lisa stopped and gazed at Clay, noting his squinted eyes indicating he was in real pain. "No. I'll find it soon. I know they are here. I packed them just in case."

"Not like you not to know right where something is." Clay took a sharp breath and grabbed the nearest thing which happened to be Jason's hammock as pain lanced through one ear.

Startled from sleep as his hammock swung Jason opened his eyes, worry instant. "Spenser?"

"Sorry. Didn't meant to wake you." Clay didn't release his grasp as the Hunchback of Norte Dame tugged on the bell pulls causing a cacophony of noise in his head.

"Found them!" Lisa exclaimed excitedly. She strode to Clay and grinned. "Here. Put these on. They'll help."

Clay eyed the neon pink headset. "What the hell? I'm not putting those on."

"They're noise canceling ear muffs. I bought them years ago for personal use. They'll cut out ninety-five percent of the ambient sounds … I know it won't help with the internal ringing, but hey, if you don't have the engines, that's something. Right? Try them on at least."

As Clay stared, all the razzing he would receive for wearing pink ear protection ran through his mind. _Is it worth it?_

"Put them on," Jason ordered. "And grab another dose of painkillers from Trent's kit. No need to wake him, you know what you need. So take it." Jason laid back, closed his eyes, confident Clay would follow his command without question.

Clay took the headset from Lisa. "Thanks … I guess … but did they have to be pink?"

Lisa laughed. "If they work, I promise to get you any color you want before the return flight."

"How? We'll be in Ecuador." When Lisa lifted a brow and tilted her head, Clay said, "Never mind … you'll use your magic powers which never cease to amaze us." He put the ear muffs on and sighed. "Heaven."

"They work?" Lisa asked.

Clay lifted one earpiece, "What?"

"You answered my question. Now go sit down before you fall. I'll bring you the meds." Lisa moved towards Trent's pack. Everyone was now well versed in which pain reliever worked best for Clay.

Clay replaced the noise-canceling headphones and returned to his place. The lack of external noise quieted the internal bells. He grinned thanks to Lisa as he swallowed the pain meds too. A chuckle emitted as Cerberus dragged over the mat Brock put down for him to lay on.

He rested his head on a section of Cerb's mat as he laid down. Cerberus curled up next to him, and he draped an arm over the empathetic pup … Cerb always understood when he need help. Exhaustion from the day's activities caught up to Clay, and in his blessedly quieter world, he drifted to sleep.

Jason glanced over at Clay, grinned, and then turned to Davis and gave her a thumbs up. They would be lost without her ability to have what they required. She earned their respect from day one. He would be sad if she left for OCS, but she would make a damned fine officer. They could use more like her in the Navy.

* * *

 _ **Ecuador – Remote TOC**_

Clay sat in a folding metal chair Davis procured for him. Where she got it, he didn't know, and he started to believe she might possess actual magic powers. Everyone else in the stuffy room stood near tables set up with their monitors and comms gear.

It turned out Sergeant Estrada, the leader of the unit which went with Bravo into the jungle, spoke English which would be a benefit since comms could be erratic given the terrain. And the Ecuador Commander, Major Espinosa, was educated in England until he was fifteen, so he conversed without problem in English too. At this point, Clay was a third wheel, superfluous, and excluded from most of the goings-on.

Bored he rose, and luckily his equilibrium stayed normal. "Gonna grab some air," he said to Blackburn when the man gave him the snake eye.

Davis never took her eyes off the drone footage as she said, "Don't go far. Jason will have your hide if you get lost."

Rolling his eyes, Clay opened the door and stepped into the night. This area so remote no streetlights existed. He wandered to the edge of the building to a rough-hewn wooden bench. Lowering himself, he recalled all the merciless razzing he received when the guys woke and saw the pink headphones he wore.

He ended up with a few new nicknames, which he hoped faded fast. Pinky Pie, Powder Puff, and Prince Gumball. Smiling, Clay recalled the taunts turned on Sonny when the other guys gave him a ration for knowing all the kid's cartoon characters with pink hair. Though he chafed at Kid when he first joined, the moniker felt … well, good and right and he preferred it over Pretty Boy and all the new ones.

Clay stretched his legs in front of him enjoying the cooler air and the sounds of the nocturnal animals. Hushed voices speaking Spanish around the corner drew his attention and set him on edge. As he listened to the exchange, his gut churned.

When the voices faded, Clay stood and pitched forward, ending up in the dirt on his knees. _Damn, I don't need this right now._ He picked himself up and used the wall to help him make it back into the room. He needed a distraction to get Eric or Lisa close to him. The only one available to him was to let go of the wall.

He took one step and crashed to the ground. As predicted the Ecuadorian soldiers only eyed him as Eric strode over to him, Davis busy with communicating with Bravo.

"Spenser?" Eric asked with concern.

Clay grabbed his arm and pulled him close as he whispered, "Where is Ellis?"

Eric eyed him. "No idea. Some assignment."

Espinosa strode over, "Does your man need medical assistance?"

"No. Just a hand to my chair," Clay answered and held fast to Eric as he gained his feet. In an undertone, he said, "Set me by Davis."

Unsure what was going on, but trusting one of his elite operatives, Eric grabbed the chair and took it along with Clay to Davis.

Once settled, Clay covertly swiped one of Lisa's pens and hunched over hiding his hands under the table as he scribbled two words. Lifting his head, he said, "Pass me water, please."

When Eric handed him one, he spotted Clay's eyes as they darted to his cupped hand. With years of practice, he controlled his reaction when he read **Ellis Everglade**. He nodded and picked up the receiver, "Bravo One, TOC."

"TOC, Bravo One, go ahead." Jason halted the group. It would be strange for Eric to contact him between checkpoints.

"Did you pass Everglade?"

Jason's eyes widened, and his whole team went on alert when Eric said the distress code. He motioned to Ray who stepped to him and provided the sat phone understanding any further transmission on the situation would happen once they achieved a secure location.

Espinosa glanced at the mission board with names of exotic endangered animals. "What is this Everglade. It isn't on the list."

Without hesitation, Lisa smoothly explained, "A routine checkpoint we no longer bother writing on the board." She glanced at Clay and only a small flare of her eyes bespoke her concern.

"Negative TOC. A bit dense here, slow going," Jason responded.

"Copy. TOC out." Eric set down the mike and peered at Clay. "You need some air. Let's get you outside."

As Clay stood, he deliberately fell forward onto the table. With sleight of hand and both Eric and Lisa covering him as they appeared to rush to his aid, he tucked a satellite phone under his shirt. He remained hunched over as Eric slung his arm over his shoulder and walked him out.

Davis sat down again and controlled her breathing.

"Why do you bring a sick man on a mission?" Espinosa eyed the woman.

Lying through her teeth, Davis said, "Undiagnosed ear infection which the flight exacerbated."

Once outside, Eric moved Clay who really did need help to stay upright, to the side of the building and leaned him against the wall. He took a moment to clear the area before returning. He gave Clay a nod. "Clear. Contact him."

Clay dialed Jason. When the call engaged, he spoke rapidly. "Ellis is one of the employees of the energy company. Her cover was somehow blown. This is a trap to take out her and all of Bravo in one fell swoop. The men with you are in on this and instructed to kill you after you arrive at the target."

Jason listened and then asked, "How did you find out?"

"Overheard men bragging how easy it was to lure us here. Not sure if Espinosa is involved or not yet. But they're planning on taking us out as soon as they receive word you are down."

"Watch your back, kid." Jason wished to hell Clay was at one hundred percent. He wouldn't worry for any of the three if Spenser didn't continue to tip over unexpectedly. At least his eyesight was spot-on. Armed he would be deadly, but if they needed to make a run for it to escape overwhelming odds, Spenser would be at a disadvantage.

Clay hung up after conveying the little he knew and tucked the phone back inside his shirt, it would come in handy if they needed to make a quick exit.

Eric grinned in spite of the situation. "Damned glad you came along and went out for air. Any ideas for how to handle our end of things?" Though higher in rank, Eric realized asking an experienced field operator, a man whose life and the lives of his unit brothers depended on his ability to think through options, would be smart.

His hand going to his sidearm, Clay mused out loud, "Wish I had my assault rifle."

"You and me both, but we've only got your handgun and mine. Davis isn't armed." Eric leaned against the wall too.

"If we take up positions on opposite sides, sandwich the others between us that would be better than giving them one area to focus on. Wish we knew if those inside are involved or if they are expendable in the eyes of whoever is trying to exterminate us." Clay pushed off the wall. "We shouldn't leave Davis alone inside any longer."

Eric gripped Clay's elbow to steady him. "How's the equilibrium now?"

"Comes and goes. So-so at the moment."

"Alright. I'll put you in the chair near Davis. You cover her if things go to hell. I'll move to the other side of the room."

"We gotta lose the drone feed so Bravo can deal with things on their end without alerting those inside."

"I'll take care of that. We experience equipment failures all the time." Eric guided Clay back inside.

* * *

 _ **Ecuador – Jungle**_

Jason hung up. He trusted Clay. The kid wouldn't relay information such as this if he didn't feel it had merit. He spoke cryptically to his men, unsure if anyone besides the Ecuadorian leader understood English. "New intel. We will join Echo team after we reach Everglade and another hostage has been identified as Nancy Ryan, not one of the energy company employees. She is a consultant for Marketgroup Solutions."

Ray, Sonny, Brock, and Trent caught the meaning. The emergency signal of Everglade and use of Echo team meant they were being set-up for entrapment and would meet the same fate as Steve Porter and his men when they died in the explosion. And Nancy Ryan was the cover of CIA agent Jane Cole who they rescued from extremists before she could be sold.

"This consultant, do we have a description of her?" Ray asked wondering who the CIA agent was because certainly, it was not Cole again.

"Not much, only dark brown, medium length hair, hazel eyes, slim, and about five-eight." Jason described Ellis as best he could without giving away anything with Sergeant Estrada overhearing.

"So a change in tactics?" Sonny's grip on his weapon increased.

"What is the delay and what is this Everglade?" Estrada asked with a heavy accent as he moved closer wondering what the Americans were talking about.

"No delay. Everglade is the next checkpoint," Sonny stated and moved forward nudging the man away from Jace and Ray so they could devise a plan.

Brock and Trent both picked a man to keep an eye on and moved out along with Sonny.

Alone as they stayed to the rear, Jason whispered, "TOC is in endangered too. Bravo Six will ensure the drone is offline before we make a move. We need to eliminate the five with us and rethink our approach on the encampment."

Ray nodded. "Hope the kid's ears don't cause a problem at the wrong time. Could be bad."

"Blackburn and Davis are there." Jason shoved his worry down, and they separated, each choosing an enemy to target once they received communication the drone was off.

* * *

 _ **Ecuador – Remote TOC**_

Clay lowered himself into the chair and sized up their odds with six armed soldiers in the room. _If I grab Major Espinosa and hold him at gunpoint, perhaps the others will not fire. That will only work if Espinosa is in on this. If not, they will execute him too._ He waited for Eric to make his play.

Blackburn moved to the backside of Davis' monitor, picked up another water bottle, uncapped it, and reached his hand out to Clay. "You need to drink more."

Clay reached for the bottle, but before he grasped it, Eric let go. The water spilled all over Lisa's laptop.

Lisa grabbed the computer, stepped back, and overreacted, as she suspected they wanted her to do. "Hey, electronics here. Don't be frying my laptop or I'll be scorching your ass."

Eric used the distraction as Clay started to apologize for his clumsiness, blaming it on his ears, and using his puppy dog eyes … batting his eyelashes at her in a comical way which drew the attention of every man. He loosened the power connection only enough to prevent current but still appeared plugged in as he said, "Hope to God we don't lose the drone feed."

Moving to a dry area, Lisa set her computer down and tapped a few keys shutting down the drone based on Eric's veiled instructions. "Won't if the battery didn't …" She turned her glare on Spenser and in an enraged tone she yelled, "You electric eel! You fried my battery!"

Clay found it hard not to laugh at the term eel. _Not the explicative I expected from her._ He assumed a repentant expression as he mopped up the puddle and scanned the room, noting more than one amused face. He overheard one man repeat what Davis said in Spanish for another man. _So more of them speak English … interesting._

"Settle down, Davis. Plug in the laptop and all will be fine. I'm the one at fault. Should've ensured he had a decent grasp before releasing." Eric eyed her and Davis complied, still giving Clay a fake scowl.

Lisa shook her head. "Must've done more damage. Even with power I'm not able to establish the connection. I'll keep trying, but you need to notify Bravo there is no eagle in the sky. They are flying blind now."

She continued to appear to be working, pulling up encoded programs for those observing her, but all her efforts were hidden ploys, communicating with the support team on the plane, apprising them the situation and telling them to standby for now.

Eric lifted the handset and said, "Bravo One, TOC. Be advised eagle eyes down. I repeat drone is offline."

"Copy. Any ETA on when we will get them back?" Jason replied.

"Negative." Eric set the mike down and raked a hand through his hair as he began to pace. He wanted them to believe he was frustrated over the loss of visibility, but his purpose was to move to the other side of the room.

* * *

 _ **Ecuador – Jungle**_

As soon as Eric's negative sounded in their ears, Bravo acted. In short order, all five enemy combatants had been taken down. Trussed up, tied to a tree, and gagged Estrada glowered at the leader of the Americans.

Jason took a breath before he communicated, "TOC, Bravo One. Passed Everglade. All in hand for now."

"Copy," Davis answered.

Anger welled in Jason, and he got in Estrada's face and yanked out the cloth gagging the man. "Who is involved? Why are we targets?"

Estrada laughed. "No idea. Only following orders. How did you know?"

"So they aren't environmentalists enraged over the government not protecting some endangered animal, plant, or something?" Sonny kept his weapon trained on the soldiers.

"Apparently not," Brock cinched the zip-tie tighter on the last man he secured to a tree trunk. "We just gonna leave them here alive?"

"I'd be happy to put a bullet in each one, starting with him." Sonny put the tip of his gun on Estrada's temple.

"Dial back. We don't want to alert anyone to our presence," Jason ordered as he moved the barrel away.

"Knife works just as well. One slice … nice and quiet." Sonny pulled out his k-bar and grinned at Estrada as he placed the blade on his throat.

"Leave us alive, and I'll talk," Estrada blurted out as he peed his pants. The evil glint in the eyes of the man they referred to as Three scared the ever-living hell out of him.

Trent had to turn away, so his smile didn't give away Sonny's antics. Though in truth, none of them would think twice about dispatching these men for their part in trying to eliminate them if Jason gave the order.

"What can you tell us?" Jason stared at Estrada.

"We were supposed to let you go in the building to rescue the hostages while we secured the perimeter. Once you all were inside and called you located the hostages, the man who arranged this would set off the explosives via a remote detonator."

"Who is this man?"

"Only saw him once and don't really know who he is, but the woman knows him. She became angry when he came into the room and erupted in a string of curses. She called him Carlson. He laughed at her and told her this was what you all deserved. I didn't understand everything. Something about extracting revenge for ruining his career and embarrassing him in front of his superiors."

"And the name of the woman?"

"Carlson called her Ellis, though her passport said, Maria Ellsworth."

"Are there actually five hostages?"

"Not anymore. Carlson had the four others killed leaving only Ellis alive for now."

"You think this is the same Carlson as the one who wanted us to leave the kid?" Ray asked.

"Makes sense. The spineless earthworm didn't give a damn if any of us lived or died so long as he got his target," Brock said.

Sonny seethed as he clenched his fists. "I should've killed Carlson instead of delivering only a few punches."

"What about those in TOC, what happens to them?" Jason demanded.

"Don't exactly know, but once Carlson learned which one of your team would be staying behind, he planned to do something extra special. He hates the guy you left there as much as he does this Ellis woman.

"And by the looks of her face, after he finished beating her, your man will endure enormous pain before he kills him." Estrada peed his trousers again when the enraged American slammed his fist into his gut. He gasped for air.

Jason stalked away before he killed the man. He mentally kicked himself, wishing he left Clay in Virginia. Although Spenser possessed extraordinary abilities, his inability to remain upright would put him in a precarious position, especially since Carlson appeared to want the kid to suffer.

"Where is Carlson?" Ray asked when Jason stepped away.

Sucking in a breath, Estrada answered, "Not at the encampment … probably at TOC or close by so he can know when to trip the explosives."

Gaining control over his emotions, Jason turned to his men. "New plan. We communicate a delay. We rescue Ellis, then high-tail it back to TOC to rescue the others before we call in Mockingbird."

"We need an equipment failure too. Comms need to go down to … be spotty, so we don't need to respond … or we respond but play like we can't receive them," Ray added.

"Agreed." Jason keyed his mike and spoke as if his communication was broken, "TOC, … One. Be advised … avo Five … own … hurt … a monkey … bi … delayed … estimate … thirty mics … ill … com … ext checkpoint."

"Say again. You're breaking up," Davis said.

Jason repeated his message in the same half words. When Davis asked him to repeat a second time he ignored her.

* * *

 _ **Ecuador – Remote TOC**_

"Bravo One, do you read?" Davis asked for the fifth time before turning to Blackburn. "Comms are on the fritz, sir."

Eric nodded right before the door flew open and six armed men flooded in, shooting three of Espinosa's men. The major drew his pistol and shot two. As they hit the floor, six more entered.

At the same time, Clay dove at Davis, knocking her down behind a table, and while in motion he drew his handgun and fired off a shot, killing one of the intruders.

Eric had no time to react, closer to the door he was hit in the head with the butt of a rifle and staggered back. Stunned he stared down the barrel of the weapon pointed at his head as blood dripped down his face.

As Espinosa's two guards turned and pointed their guns at the major, he yelled in Spanish, "What the hell are you doing?"

Clay assessed the situation. Espinosa was not in on this, two of his men were, and the three dead ones likely were not. With no exit, outgunned, and no way he could take out eleven men, Clay held still, shielding Lisa with his body.

"No need for Spanish, you speak English well after being educated in Europe," a voice said hidden behind the men. "Disarm and bind them," he ordered.

The assailants took Espinosa's pistol and pulled his arms behind his back before zip-tying them. The same happened to Eric, and he was left in a heap on the floor. Unwillingly, Clay allowed his gun to be taken. He was yanked to his feet and bound as another man grabbed Davis. Her hands were zip-tied in front, unlike the men. Clay, Davis, and Espinosa were herded to the corner where Eric lay.

"Drug 'em all except the woman, we need her to communicate with the others," the disembodied voice instructed.

One man stepped forward and opened a can and poured a liquid on a rag. Clay fought with them as four men held him down and the soaking cloth covered his nose. He tried not to breathe through the gasoline smelling fabric. Clay knew the odor … ether … deadly in high doses. The effects would be similar to those of alcohol intoxication, but more potent, and potentially including distorted thinking, visual and auditory hallucinations, euphoria, and unconsciousness.

Unable to hold his breath any longer, Clay inhaled slightly and let his body go limp, making them think he got a full dose. They removed the cloth after he took a second breath, and although he drew in only a nominal amount of the vapor his head swam and his eyesight became unfocused.

They went after Eric next and the commander's body slumped over beside him. Clay noted the deep cut on Eric's forehead where the rifle struck him. It bled copiously, but head wounds, even minor ones, tended to bleed a lot. Though Clay worried what the combined effects of ether and a potential concussion would do to Blackburn. The assailants dropped the unconscious major on the floor next to him.

When the ether-soaked rag was discarded on his chest, Clay slowed his breathing more, as the vapors encroached and threatened to send him into true unconsciousness. Fighting to remain awake, needing to put a face with a somewhat familiar voice, Clay lay still hoping for a glimpse. He was rewarded as the man stepped into view. Though if he had not been able to see, Lisa's exclaim would've clued him in.

Outrage filled her voice as Lisa set eyes on the man. "You! What are you doing here, Carlson?"

An evil grin crossed Carlson's face. "Seeking vengeance. All of you played a role in killing my career, now I'm exterminating you." He turned his gaze on the men. "Take the blond one to my place and chain him. I have an extraordinarily painful death planned for him. He is the root of my downfall."

"What did he ever do to you?" Lisa challenged.

Carlson backhanded her so hard her lip split and her head rammed into the wall. Lisa didn't back down. Her training took over and allowed her to calm her raging emotion.

"Take the bitch and tie her to the chair," he directed the men. As she struggled, Carlson aimed his pistol at Blackburn's head. "If you don't do exactly as I say, I'll blow his brains out now. You will communicate with Bravo for all checkpoints. If you speak out of turn, he dies."

Clay got his mouth to work as he was being lifted and caught Lisa's eyes. "Do what they say, Arcilla. I can watch out for myself."

Lisa blinked before her mind caught up. She nodded and ceased her struggles as they pushed her into the chair, but didn't tie her as instructed. _So he's wearing the watch with the GPS tracker Sonny covertly installed after Clay was taken in Argentina. How did he find out? No matter, at least here I might have an opportunity to get word to Jason and they will be able to locate Clay._

As they dragged Clay from the room, Lisa's mind swirled. "Let me at my computer. We won't hear their checkpoints if I can't reestablish communications. I might also be able to connect the drone again to provide a visual."

Nodding his assent Carlson turned his thoughts to what he would do to Spenser. If the idiot had not arrived ill and gotten injured on the mission to grab Nazeri, his life's work wouldn't have been cratered. He would not have been beaten by the members of Bravo team either. Allowing his anger to emerge to the surface and escape, he lashed out, kicking Blackburn several times in the abdomen.

When that didn't work to alleviate his fury, Carlson said, "Keep a close eye on her. I'm going to deal with the other one. Inform me when they are one step before the target."

* * *

 _ **Clay's Location**_

The bindings on Clay's arms were cut and replaced by manacles chained above his head on the concrete wall. They shackled his ankles at the wall's base as well. The location of the bolts holding the chains and the length left Clay standing in a spread-eagle position with only a bit of wiggle room between him and the wall.

As the effects of the ether eased, Clay lifted his head to scan his prison. He hoped Davis understood his reference to the wristwatch. Carlson wouldn't know her first name since Lisa never provided that particular piece of info to anyone beyond their inner circle. Lisa however, would recall the name of the woman who abducted him and stripped him of three GPS trackers.

Sonny thought he had been sneaky inserting the tracker, but Clay had observed him. He left it in and never said anything for one reason. It was an expression of how much the team, his family, cared about him. Well, one other reason … if he hadn't, Sonny might actually try to insert one subdermally, which Clay absolutely would not allow.

Needing to escape and help Davis and Blackburn, Clay tested the strength of his bindings, tugging as hard as he could, but they didn't budge.

"You aren't going anywhere," Carlson said as he entered the room. "Those will hold an elephant."

Clay glared at the man. "What is your endgame?"

"Simple. Kill those who wronged me. For such an elite team, you were easy to ensnare. Too much empathy for your fellow citizens. Ellis poking around down here enabled my plans. Amazing what a little intel passed to the right people can do.

"That and envy. Once Major Espinosa is dead the man who helped arrange this will be able to take his place. Corruption is epidemic here. I should know, this is where I landed after Ellis sent in her scathing report."

Carlson walked to a table and drew back the cloth covering the items. "I'm going to enjoy causing you excruciating pain." He picked up a knife and moved to Spenser. "Elegant piece of artisan craftsmanship. The hilt is made of ebony. Would you like a closer look?"

His captive remained silent as he moved the blade towards Spenser's face. "You're a sniper … you rely on your eyesight. What if I take that away from you?"

Clay controlled his breathing. He refused to show fear, though inside he quaked at the thought of losing his eyes. Living the past month with his perforated eardrums gave him a taste of what life without being a tier one operator would be like, and he wanted nothing to do with that kind of life.

"Or perhaps I take an ear or two … won't be so pretty anymore." Without warning, Carlson plunged the knife to the hilt into Spenser's right shoulder and twisted it.

Clay swallowed his scream as steel impaled his shoulder. Waves of pain forced his breaths to become erratic as he panted through them.

Turning back to his table, leaving the embedded knife in place, Carlson chose his next item. "This one will do nicely." He took the long, iron poker to the fireplace and stirred the embers, heating the tip to glowing orange.

"Should I mark your face? Um. No. A better location. One more meaningful to me." He slid the rod between Spenser's back and the wall before pressing the heated iron to his right flank over the kidney which was the cause of Carlson's excommunication from prime assignments.

A scream erupted from Clay through he tried not to let it escape. The odor of burning fabric and flesh turned his stomach. He struggled in vain to move away from the fiery branding stick, but the chains prevented him. When it was finally removed, Clay's head lolled on his chest.

"That was exciting wasn't it?" Carlson moved back to the fire and buried the poker in the embers, but left it there as he returned to the torture table. "I think we'll do that one again later. I still have so many toys to choose from."

Carlson brought over a vial. "This one will elicit my final revenge. I just want you to know what is coming at the end. This contains the Ebola virus. When I'm done exacting my revenge, you will drink this and you will hemorrhage excessively, and even someone with your level of endurance will die quite unpleasantly."

Going back to his equipment, his toys, Carlson grinned. "I do believe it is time to light things up. Do you feel the excitement and electricity in the air?"

 _How could a CIA agent be in the field only months ago and be stark-raving mad now?_ Clay tensed as he spied insulated gloves draped over a battery which Carlson brought closer to him. _Ah shit, he's gonna electrocute me. Definitely fucking insane._

Carlson's effervescent eyes glimmered with evil as he eagerly donned the tight-fitting gloves and yanked out the dagger.

Groaning, Clay clenched his jaw to stop from crying out.

"Sorry, did that hurt? I need to use this. I'll give it back in a moment."

Carlson cut open Clay's shirt. He was not wearing body armor because he was only going to be in TOC. Blood from his wound ran freely down his chest. Clay had no doubt what the ebullient man's comment meant; he only wondered where the madman would embed the blade next. He didn't have to wait long. Agony ripped through his left thigh as Carlson stabbed him.

Using his lifeblood instead of water for a conductor, the embittered ex-agent pressed the electrodes against his abdomen causing Clay to jerk as the electrical current zinged through him. Every nerve ending sizzled. Engulfed in endless, extreme pain, Clay had no idea if he shrieked or not. The earth's axis tilted wildly before the encroaching netherworld of blackness pulled him into oblivion. His body hung limply as his head dropped forward to his chest again.

"Damn. You passed out. Guess you're not so elite after all." Carlson dropped the charged wires and extricated his hands from the gloves. As he stared, enthralled by his handiwork, an egomaniacal laugh erupted. _This will be an exceedingly slow and excruciating death. Time to grab something to eat and check on the progress of Bravo. They should be near Ellis soon._

* * *

 _ **Target Location**_

With no eyes in the sky, the team spread out to ensure no other soldiers waited to open fire before approaching the sole building. A twenty-by-twenty concrete square with a tin roof, a window without glass or covering of any sort, and one wooden door.

Brock sent Cerberus to sniff out the entrance. His dog sat which told them explosives were present. After Brock checked for tripwires, Jason motioned for them to converge on the door. Sonny took out the hammer and pry bar to break the lock.

Entering the single room first, Jason spied Ellis tied to a chair and blindfolded. Her head lolled to one side, and he feared she was dead. Four bodies lay against the east wall … the other hostages. As Brock, Trent, and Ray searched for the explosives to disarm them, Sonny kept guard at the doorway while Jason moved to Mandy.

"Ellis?" Jason spoke quietly as he reached to remove the cloth tied around her eyes. Wincing as he saw her right eye swollen shut, he expected the rest of her face was covered in bruises, though he couldn't discern that in the green glow of his NODs.

"Trap, get out now. Save yourselves," Mandy croaked out through a parched throat.

"We know. We eliminated the threat … or part of it anyway." Jason took out his canteen and put it to Mandy's split lips. "Slow sips."

Peering at Jason with one eye in the minimal moonlight coming in from the window, Ellis drew a ragged breath after taking several mouthfuls of water. "It's Carlson. His ego is bruised, and he's gone off his rocker. Blames Spenser and me the most for his downfall. He shouldn't have a field assignment. No clue what enfeebled nitwit put him back in the field."

She gazed around and only noted five, her worry easing slightly. "Spenser's safe back in Virginia."

Untying the ropes, Jason answered, "Not quite. He's with Blackburn and Davis at TOC."

"No. No. You have to get to him." Mandy flexed her arms. The strain of being confined for days making them somewhat numb.

"We will. He is aware of the situation. In fact, he is the one who alerted us, though he didn't know who orchestrated everything. Are you aware of who else is working with him?"

With Jason's help, Mandy stood. Her legs shook, and he put her arm over his shoulder. "Some of the soldiers. And those four," she motioned to the dead bodies. "I came down here seeking a leak. They were engaged in espionage, using their cover as Enterprise Energy employees they provided intel to a guerrilla faction intent on staging a military coup."

"Is Major Espinosa involved?" Ray asked.

"No. Never met him but I overheard one of the soldiers bragging he would take his place. Why?" Mandy took several steps with Jason's assistance, finding her legs again.

Trent gave the eviscerated bodies one last glance, before going to Ellis. "Are you able to walk? Are you injured more than your face?"

"He only hit my face. I'm okay otherwise, only a little stiff and hungry," Ellis responded as she took her own weight, letting go of Jason.

Trent slipped off his pack, knelt, and took out his kit. He opened a packet, poured the contents into a water bottle, and shook. Standing he handed to bottle to Ellis. "Electrolytes, orange flavored. Got an energy bar for you too, but not sure if you can chew with the state of your jaw." He offered the bar.

"Water only. Thanks." Mandy sipped before asking, "What's the plan?"

"Get you to safety, then extract the others from TOC," Jason said as he moved to the doorway. "Trent, you stick close to Ellis." He keyed his comms and conveyed, in broken words, the mission code two before the target location to appear to be making slow but steady progress. "TOC, Bravo … slow … up … speed … assed … Tapir … hope you …. eve."

Davis responded, "Copy, passed Tapir," but Jason again ignored it as if he didn't receive.

The team headed out slower than they would've without Ellis, but given the CIA agent's depleted condition she moved fairly rapidly. Jason's mind began strategizing on how they would approach TOC and wished he knew whether the three were okay or not. He hoped Carlson wouldn't attack them until after he called in Mockingbird.

* * *

 _ **Ecuador – Remote TOC**_

Groggy and a little disoriented, Eric blinked open his eyes. The odor of ether still filled his nostrils, and his head pounded where he was hit with the rifle butt. The tightness on his face told him he had been out long enough for the laceration to congeal and the blood to dry somewhat.

He overheard Jason's broken transmission and assumed it was feigned since the mission step came in clear. He glanced around after Davis responded, glad she appeared to be unharmed. He noted the major next to him, still out, but Clay was nowhere to be seen.

When the door opened, his eyes narrowed as Carlson sauntered in. _What the hell is he doing here?_ As the ex-agent approached Davis, Eric felt ineffectual when she turned, and he spotted her bruised face and split lip. _I did a piss poor job of protecting them ..._ _Davis is bruised up and Spenser is missing._

Hoping to find some way to do something, Eric scanned his surroundings. Euphoria filled him as he spied the sat phone Clay had tucked in his shirt earlier. Evidently, it fell out and no one noticed it or thought it would be useful.

Cautiously shifting his body, Eric managed to position himself over the phone. With his hands behind his back, he was able to punch in numbers and hit dial. A long-shot, but with an open line of communication, he might be able to feed useful details to Jason.

Carlson asked, "What step are they on now?"

Lisa glared at the bastard. "Just reported Tapir, which is two locations from the target building."

"What is taking so long?" Carlson groused.

"No idea. They are not receiving us, and we are only getting every other word or so from them."

"Establish the drone connection," Carlson ordered.

"Tried. My computer experienced an issue, and nothing I do has reestablished the link." Lisa glanced over at Blackburn and noted his eyes open. A small relief, she worried about his head injury.

Another slight respite is she had been able to update the support team on the situation, and they were now en route to them with instructions to secure the perimeter and hold until further notice. With Ellis' and Spenser's fates unknown, she didn't want to evoke a response from Carlson which might result in either's death.

In a heavy accent, one of the soldiers asked, "Why won't you let me kill Espinosa yet?"

Carlson turned to him. "He must remain alive until Ellis and Bravo are dead. We will use Espinosa's weapon to kill these two and then stage his death to blame everything on him."

"What about the third soldier?"

"Spenser's mine … I'm going to enjoy making him scream more. Electrocuting him again will be exciting. His body danced so energetically before." Carlson leaned on the wall and grinned as his mind's eyes recalled Spenser's body bucking and jerking as he put the electrodes to his exposed flesh.

Davis swallowed the bile rising as Carlson nonchalantly described Clay's torture. _Oh, this man is gonna die the moment I get free, or any of Bravo sets his sights on him. Sonny wouldn't think twice before eviscerating him and yanking out his entrails, so he dies a slow painful death._

Eric closed his eyes, his stomach going sour and churning at the thought of what Clay endured at the hands of this egotistical bastard. _I might be a dead man soon too. Jason wanted to leave Clay home in Virginia, but I insisted he come. My fault Clay is being tortured._

* * *

 _ **Ecuador – Jungle**_

Jason answered the sat phone as soon as it rang. He expected Clay or Eric, but to hear Carlson's voice telling Davis to get the drone back online, and then an unknown accented male asking about Espinosa surprised him. He figured Clay must've dialed him covertly to provide him intel.

This assumption crashed to the ground, and his blood boiled when Carlson spoke about Spenser. Ensuring the phone was muted, Jason erupted. "The bastard is electrocuting the kid for fun! I'm gonna kill Carlson with my bare hands."

"The fuck?!" Sonny shot back. "Gonna skin the fucking bastard alive and feed him his entrails!"

Clamping down on his emotions as he clenched a fist, wanting to punch something, Jason relayed what he overheard. "Carlson is in TOC. Have to assume Davis is being forced to communicate with us, and Blackburn is still alive. We need to move faster."

"Give me a gun and leave me here. I'm slowing you down. You can come back for me once they are safe," Ellis said as she leaned on a tree, wholly exhausted.

"No. Trent, Brock, stay with Ellis. The rest of us will move out," Jason said.

"I'll stay with Mandy. Take Trent with you … the kid might need his services," Ray suggested.

Jason took Ray's counsel and nodded. "We communicate on channel eight." He tossed the satellite phone to Ray. "Monitor their conversation and inform me if things change."

"Copy." Ray put the phone to his ear and listened as he and Brock moved to mirror Mandy's pace while the others sprinted off.

* * *

 _ **Clay's Location**_

Surfacing to consciousness, the overwhelming agony emerging from the cocoon of blackness along with him, Clay let out a moan. His shoulders bore his weight for an untold amount of time and the fiery pins and needles encompassing them nearly sent him back over the edge into the black abyss.

His fettered legs received a delayed signal from his brain to resume their purpose. Taking his weight on his feet relieved some of the strain from his upper body. Cracking his eyes open he peered at his right shoulder. Blood still oozed from his stab wound. His gaze moved to examine his abdomen. Smeared blood covered the area, but the red-hot sensation told him there would be burns underneath. His right flank hurt like hell and the odor of his scorched skin still hung in the air.

Moving down, he first noted his wet pants. _Fuck, I pissed myself. Fodder for Sonny if he finds me like this … likely be called Princess Pisspot from now on._ Clay stopped the negative thoughts. His brothers would understand he possessed no control of his bladder when electricity coursed through him. If the roles were reversed and any of them razzed the person who it happened to he would punch their lights out.

Throbbing in his left leg brought his eyes to the ebony handled knife still embedded in his thigh. Ringing in his ears kicked up nausea, and he closed his eyes, panting and attempting to prevent emesis. Puking here and now would only add to his misery.

As the desire to hurl eased, Clay lifted his eyelids and scanned the area again. Up to this point, his mind enslaved by agony, he had not registered he was alone. The psychopath was no longer with him.

 _What is it with lunatics trying to kill me. First, Arcilla hunted me and shot my ass with an arrow. Now, Carlson is subjecting me to more than any evolution of SERE training prepared me for._

 _Brothers, I need your help again. Crap this is getting embarrassing. Wish I could forget the number of times you guys have needed to rescue my sorry ass, but no way Sonny will let me._

* * *

 _ **Ecuador – Outside Remote TOC**_

Jason signaled for them to stop as he spotted a member of the support team in a watch position near the building being used for TOC. A grin broke out as he whispered, "Emerson." As expected the SEAL whipped around at his name.

Relief flooded Emerson's features, "Damned glad you're here. How can we help?"

"How'd you end up here?" Jason asked as Sonny and Trent joined him.

"Davis sent us an encrypted email on a back channel explaining what happened and directed us to come secure the area and wait for further instructions. I have men surrounding the building, and three of them are guarding the ten Ecuadorian soldiers we rounded up. They're about a half-a-klick from here."

Jason nodded. "Any idea what we're facing inside?"

"Davis and Blackburn are inside along with Major Espinosa. All others are inside are hostiles. At least five, a few have come out, and we took them down, quiet-like."

"Spenser?"

"No idea where," Emerson said, wishing he had better news.

Jason keyed his comms on channel eight. "Bravo Two, any updates?"

"Nothing inside TOC, but we swung by the five men we tied up. All dead."

"How?"

"Sonny's right … the jungle will kill you. Appears a swarm of army ants on a hunting spree overwhelmed and suffocated them." Ray reported.

"See, told ya. Jungles … everything in them wants to kill ya. Even itty-bitty ants." Sonny shivered.

"We have reinforcements. Davis sent word to the support team. Emerson and his men are here. I'm going to contact TOC with Jaguar, and while they're distracted we'll breach," Jason shared.

"God's speed, brother." Ray turned and shared the details with Ellis since she didn't have an earpiece.

Emerson communicated with his team, then Jason laid out the plan, and they moved into position, preparing to toss in flashbangs. Sonny, Trent, Jason, and Emerson would breach the room.

Switching back to channel one, Jason said, "TOC, Bravo One. Passed Jaguar. Two mics out."

"Copy. You came in clear. Do you copy?" Davis replied.

"Lima Charlie, almost as if I'm right next to you," Jason said using the sign for loud and clear and hoping Davis and Blackburn would understand his vague reference to being right outside.

* * *

 _ **Ecuador – Remote TOC**_

Lisa withheld her grin as she glanced at Blackburn and prepared to take cover. Bravo would be coming in hot. There was no mistaking Jason's plan.

Carlson grinned. "Only a few more minutes and they'll all be ashes." He turned to his henchmen. "Prepare Espinosa for his execution."

Now awake, Espinosa struggled with the men who grabbed his arms. "You will not get away with this."

"Oh, I beg to dif—" Carlson's words were cut off as loud bangs filled the room. He ran towards the exit wanting to escape.

Davis took cover under one of the tables and held still. She could not see Eric from this position but assumed he remained motionless too, not wanting to become a target. The door crashed open, and gunfire erupted. A body dropped next to Davis, and she noticed he was the one who used ether on the men.

The chaos only lasted seconds before a familiar face crouched in front of Lisa. She smiled at Sonny as he reached out a hand to her.

"Well, little missy, seems you've been a might mistreated," Sonny said letting his Texas drawl come out in force as he viewed Lisa's abused face and helped her to her feet. He took out his knife to cut her bindings.

She scanned the area and noted Trent with Eric, Emerson and his men were kicking away weapons from the dead soldiers, and Jason had his hands around Carlson's throat. Her response to Sonny halted by Jason's shout.

"Where the hell did you take Spenser?" Jason wanted to snap the bastard's neck, but he needed a clue to where Clay had been taken.

"I'll never tell," Carlson snarled, still surprised Bravo was here.

Lisa moved to her computer. "We don't need him. Clay's wearing the GPS watch." Her fingers flew on the keyboard.

"How do you know?" Sonny asked.

"He called me Arcilla and said he could watch his back."

"Little shit knew and never said anything," Sonny groused but smiled. "Damn glad. Now we can find him faster."

Trent assisted Blackburn to the chair. The commander a little unsure on his feet, due to the forceful blow he received to the head. He pulled out a pad pressed it to Eric's wound and taped it in place. "Field dressing will work for now."

Jason squeezed harder and growled, "If he is not living when we find him, you're a dead man." Releasing his hold, he let Carlson fall to the floor, and Emerson came forward to assume custody of the traitor.

"Got him. He's not far from here." Lisa turned her laptop so the guys could view Clay's location.

Jason, Trent, and Sonny rushed out of the room, and Jason signaled for three of the support team to follow.

Blackburn peered at Lisa through squinted eyes, the light causing his head to pound excessively. "Excellent work. Real leadership qualities you exhibited tonight."

"Thank you, sir. I only hope they find Spenser alive." Lisa leaned on the table and rubbed her abraded wrists.

A scuffle on the other side of the room alerted her and Eric. Both reached for weapons as Carlson fought with Emerson for his gun. A shot rang out. Emerson staggered back, dropped to his knees, and his hands reached for his thigh. Two more shots rent the air.

Carlson's expression froze in surprise as two bullets hit him center mass and his body crumpled to the floor … dead.

Lisa drew in a ragged breath as a wisp of smoke exited her barrel. She stared at the first man she ever shot. Her double-tap killed him. The shock of her action caused her to turn and vomit.

As he rose, Eric noted Emerson's teammate helping his leader. Using the table for support, he went to Davis. She managed to shoot before he even grabbed a gun ... he conceded his concussed state made his reaction time sluggish. He uncapped a bottle of water then put a hand on her back as she finished emptying her stomach. "Rinse."

Taking the water, Lisa sipped, swished, and spat three times. Still unsettled she turned her eyes to Blackburn. "Not so officer-like, huh?"

"First time is tough for anyone. I puked my guts out the eight times I had to eliminate someone. Never got easier. Don't think it is supposed to … if you're a decent human," Eric said leaning heavily on the table.

"The guys don't … puke I mean."

"You've never been in the field with them. It happens, but they learn to compartmentalize, or they can't do their jobs. Though, I imagine every kill stays with them in some form." Dizziness overtook Eric, and he listed to the right.

Lisa caught him before he toppled over and guided him back to the chair. "Sit until we evac. You've probably got one hell of a headache."

Eric nodded and closed his eyes to rest a moment before he needed to arrange evac. _Explaining this shitshow to my superiors will give me a headache for a full month or more._

* * *

 _ **Clay's Location**_

Finding the building unguarded, Bravo moved inside as the support team stayed outside. Jason sucked in a breath upon spotting Clay chained to the wall. He stepped in front and spoke, "Kid. Hey, hang on. We'll have you down in no time."

Trent took one look at Clay and said, "Cut the chains, we'll worry about the manacles later."

Sonny reached into his pack for bolt cutters and made short work of the links holding Clay's arms. Jason and Trent were on either side of the kid and took his weight. As he cut the ones holding his feet, Sonny worried about the lack of response from the kid.

"We need to move him to the table over there," Trent stated.

Rushing ahead of the three, Sonny reached the wooden table and sent the medieval torture devices flying with so much force they hit the opposite wall.

Rousing as the pain increased when someone touched his burned back, Clay groaned. He started to fight against those who held him, not aware they were his teammates.

"Stop, Clay. You're safe now," Jason barked knowing the hard tone would break through Clay's disorientation.

As he was lowered on the table on his back, Clay tried to roll to his left side, any pressure on his burn sent explosions of pain rippling through him.

"Lay still," Trent commanded as he carefully pushed Clay's right shoulder down.

"Arrrgh!" Clay struggled against Trent.

"Hold still. I need to examine your wounds." Trent pushed harder.

"Back … hurts … burned," Clay managed to grind out as he fought the blackness trying to take him again.

Trent released him and with Jason's help rolled him to the left. "Jesus Christ!" Trent shouted as he viewed the charred and blistered red flesh. The severity of damage to the epithelial layers suggested a thermal, not electrical burn. "What did that?"

"Iron poker … fire," Clay mumbled as his agony ebbed ever so slightly.

Sonny strode over to the fireplace and pulled out the glowing rod. "I'm gonna brand Carlson with this. Then I'm going to ram it into one of his eyes."

"Jace, hold him while I check the other wounds." Trent set to work, he examined the knife wound in his shoulder, covered it with a dressing for now. He moved to Clay's thigh. "Gonna hurt like a bitch, but I gotta pull the blade out."

Jason gripped one of Clay's hands and put his face close to Clay's. "Okay to scream, Kid. Squeeze too."

Although he didn't want to cry out, as the dagger came out, Clay emitted a half scream before clamping his jaw and crushing Jason's hand. His rapid, erratic breaths through his nose made him lightheaded.

"Breathe slower. Take a deep one in through your nose and exhale through your mouth." As Clay complied with his words, Jason continued to coach him, ensuring he exhaled completely before sucking in another breath.

Sonny began picking the locks on the shackles as Trent cut open a portion of Clay's pants to apply a pressure bandage to stop the profuse bleeding of his thigh. He noted the odor of urine, and it pissed him off more. Carlson would pay for hurting his little brother … for electrocuting him.

That thought spurred him to ask, "Where'd he apply the electrodes?"

"Abdomen," Clay answered as he rested his head on the table fighting to stay with them but wanting to seek relief in passing out.

Trent glance up, not seeing much other than blood. "How many times? How long?"

"Once. Don't know. Blacked out. Still burns."

After tying off the gauze around Clay's leg, he retrieved another sterile pad and sterile solution. He dribbled some on Clay's lower torso and with a light touch, not wanting to cause more pain he wiped away the blood, revealing the low-voltage burns on the contact sites. Although he could see the surface injury, often tissues deeper underneath the skin could be severely damaged.

Sonny removed three of four iron cuffs and motioned to Jason he needed Clay's other hand.

"Let go a moment so Sonny can get this damned manacle off you," Jason said.

Reluctantly, Clay released Jason's hand as he asked, "Davis, Blackburn, Ellis, are they okay? Carlson hit Davis."

"All safe. A little beat up like you, but okay. You did good, Kid. Saved us all." Jason took hold of Clay's hand as the cuff opened.

"Didn't."

"Don't argue with, Boss. You did. You're heads-up kept us all alive," Sonny asserted.

Clay groaned as Trent went over a particularly agonizing spot.

"We need transport to meet us here. Jostling him too much will not be enjoyable for him," Trent said as he pulled out supplies to start an IV and pain meds.

Jason communicated with Blackburn and found out evac had been arranged for all of them, and a vehicle would be outside for them in about five minutes.

After giving Clay the painkillers, and letting them take effect, Trent dressed the burn on the kid's back. Even with his soft touch, the pain was too much for Clay, and he blacked out, which was probably for the best at the moment.

When transport arrived, it brought Ray and Brock with them. Both men were shocked by the state of their brother. As they put him on the stretcher, Ray said, "Carlson's dead."

"How?" both Sonny and Jason exclaimed.

"Davis shot him after he shot Emerson. Didn't blink. Did what had to be done, though this is her first kill. Emerson's wound is a through and through and he should be alright, nothing major hit. Espinosa contacted his superiors to inform them. They provided the vehicles. Does Clay need a hospital?" Ray's eyes roved over Clay's abused body.

Trent shook his head at Ray. "Not here. I can take care of him until we arrive home."

"Let's go." Jason gripped one of the handles. Trent picked up his pack and the IV bag while Ray, Brock, and Sonny took hold of the other three handles and they exited the room.

* * *

 _ **Aircraft Preparing to Return Home**_

Strapped to a gurney, a soft pillow under his head, covered in a warm blanket, and a wedge tucked under his right shoulder to keep pressure off his burned back, Clay drifted in and out thanks to high-quality pain meds. He had woken once on the ride back to the plane, but excruciating pain, when they hit a pothole, sent him back to black for the remainder of the trip.

Upon arriving at the plane Trent and his brothers stripped him, washed the blood and urine from him, and put clean boxers on him. Not a single one remarked about him pissing his pants. Then Trent gave him a full dose of morphine and set to work cleaning out both stab wounds thoroughly.

After bandaging both, Trent focused on the burns. Not wishing to rupture the blisters on either burn, he liberally employed a saline wash, lightly patted the surface dry then applied an emollient ointment covered by a layer of wet gauze, followed by dry gauze.

Trent barely finished when the ringing in Clay's ears started again, and he needed to use the emesis basin twice as he retched which exacerbated his already overtaxed abdomen muscles. Again no one said a thing. Jason only held him as he bent over the side of the gurney and Sonny held his vomit bucket.

Ray and Brock would've been there too, but they were tasked with giving first aid to Ellis and Eric. He learned Blackburn required eight sutures and he had a mild concussion. Sounds and lights cause Eric enormous pain, and he had been given strong meds too.

Ellis was dehydrated and might have a fractured cheekbone. With all the swelling it was hard for Trent to tell and they needed to wait for x-rays. Both now lay on gurneys across from him. Although Ellis empathically attempted to deny she needed to lie down, Trent won. He always did when it came to medical issues.

The one person he had not seen since arriving was Davis. Jason assured him she was fine, a split lip and bruises, but otherwise, alright. He learned she took out Carlson too. Perhaps that is why she was making herself scarce before they departed. She might need time to process her emotions without everyone's eyes on her.

Clay closed his eyes as Sonny droned on about army ants and how they killed the five soldiers. They would never hear the end to his fears about the many plants and animals in the jungle which would kill them.

"Hey, you awake?" Lisa spoke in a soft tone, not wanting to wake Clay if he slept.

"Yeah." Clay opened his eyes and winced upon seeing Lisa's black and blue face. "Thanks for catching my drift about the GPS."

"How could I not? You called me Arcilla. How are you doing?"

"No pain … kinda floaty."

"Yeah, Trent gave you the good stuff. Should make the flight home easier on you. I have something else that will help." She brought her hand up and exhibited a blue pair of noise-canceling earphones. "Would've asked you what color you wanted but you were a little busy with well, puking. Figured blue would be better than pink."

"That's where you've been … getting these for me?" Clay asked as he took the headset.

"Yeah, well, I promised, and after everything you did to protect everyone, I needed to follow through."

"Didn't do anything except overhear a conversation."

"Okay, but examine it from our perspective. If you hadn't been with us, neither Blackburn or I would've had a clue we all were endangered, and we'd all be dead now. Your language skills are invaluable." Lisa gave him a soft smile. "So, thanks. I'll let you rest now. We're taking off in about ten minutes."

Clay nodded and put on the headphones. The silence comforting. He glanced over and grinned as Blackburn put on the neon pink headset. The nicknames would evaporate now that the commander wore them too. He noted Davis turn and wink at him. She gave them to Eric on purpose because she could've easily acquired two blue sets.

"What you are grinning at," Sonny asked.

Clay lifted one earpiece. "What?"

"Why are you smiling?"

He replaced the earpiece and quipped, "Because with these I don't have to listen to you yammering on about the jungle." Clay closed his eyes.

"Why you cocky, little …"

"Sonny, he can't hear you, so kindly shut up." Ray grinned as he took his seat for take-off.

Jason scanned his men and breathed a sigh of relief. He never expected they would be endangered in Ecuador quite like this. Part of him wanted to be angry with Eric for bringing the kid, but without Clay, they all would be dead, so he cut the commander slack. He grabbed a beer and moved to his seat, happy they were headed home all in one piece … a few dinged up … but nothing that wouldn't heal with a time.

.

* * *

 **AN:** Sorry this chapter took two weeks to post, but at 13,300+ words it is real long and took time to write and edit (forgive any typos please). Hope you enjoyed E. Drop me a review and let me know.

Suggestions for F and G welcome. Contributors for E are ...

\- Ear from badgerbabe, Juniper, Poolie, Lunary, Crazykids121, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Eagle from Lunary  
\- Eagle-eyed from Liz  
\- Ear Infection from Crazykids121, Perenne Allegro, EmmaRose, Solstice321, Thowra  
\- Earache/Ear pain from NetMyne01, Crazykids121, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Eardrum from OneChicagoPD  
\- Earth from Lunary  
\- East from Lunary  
\- Easy from Shellymae88, Crazykids121, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Eat/eating from Lunary, Crazykids121, CB14girl  
\- Ebola virus from badgerbabe, Lunary  
\- Echo from badgerbabe, Shellymae88, Victoria-Annxx, Thowra  
\- Eclipse from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Edge from Juniper, Solstice321  
\- Eel/electric eel from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Efficient from Crazykids121  
\- Effort from IndyElora, Shellymae88, Poolie, EmmaRose  
\- Ego from badgerbabe, Crazykids121  
\- Elbow from Solstice321  
\- Electrocuted/electrocution from AeroWright, Chgrgal, Guest, Juniper, Shellymae88, Poolie, Lunary, Liz, EmmaRose, Solstice321, Effie17, Victoria-Annxx, Thowra, OneChicagoPD  
\- Elegant from Crazykids121  
\- Elephant from Megan Rachel, CB14girl  
\- Elevated from Poolie  
\- Eleven from Crazykids121  
\- Elicit from Liz  
\- emails from Megan Rachel  
\- Embarrass/embarrassment from badgerbabe, Megan Rachel  
\- Embedded from badgerbabe, Megan Rachel, EmmaRose, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Embers from Megan Rachel  
\- Emerge from Elise Deschat  
\- Emergency from badgerbabe, Shellymae88, Thowra  
\- Emotional pain from OneChicagoPD  
\- Empathy from badgerbabe, NetMyne01  
\- Empty or emptiness from Poolie  
\- Enable/enabling from Liz  
\- Encampment from Liz  
\- End from OneChicagoPD  
\- Endgame from Lunary  
\- Endless from Lunary, Crazykids121  
\- Endurance from Crazykids121  
\- Endure from Liz  
\- Energetic from Thowra  
\- Energy from Megan Rachel, Shellymae88, NetMyne01, Crazykids121, Liz  
\- Engine from Solstice321  
\- English from Megan Rachel  
\- Enjoyed/enjoyment from Liz  
\- Enormous from Liz  
\- Enrage/enraged from Liz  
\- Ensnare from badgerbabe  
\- Environment from Shellymae88, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Envy from Megan Rachel  
\- Epedemic from badgerbabe, Lunary  
\- Epithelial from Elise Deschat  
\- Equilibrium from Solstice321  
\- Equipment failure from OneChicagoPD  
\- Erupted from OneChicagoPD  
\- Escape from badgerbabe, IndyElora, Juniper, NetMyne01, Poolie, Liz, EmmaRose, Solstice321, Thowra, OneChicagoPD  
\- Espionage from Lunary, OneChicagoPD  
\- Ether from IndyElora  
\- Europe from OneChicagoPD  
\- Evac/Evacuation from badgerbabe, Shellymae88, Lunary, CB14girl  
\- Even from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Evening from IndyElora, Juniper  
\- Events/Eventful from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Evil from badgerbabe, NetMyne01  
\- Evoke from Liz  
\- Evolution from Lunary  
\- Exacerbate from badgerbabe  
\- Excellent from Crazykids121  
\- Excessively from badgerbabe  
\- Exchange from OneChicagoPD  
\- Exchange from AeroWright, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Exciting/excitement from Liz  
\- Excruciating from badgerbabe  
\- Excuse from badgerbabe  
\- Exercise from badgerbabe  
\- Exfil from Juniper, Solstice321, Effie17, OneChicagoPD  
\- Exhausted/exhaustion from badgerbabe, NetMyne01, Liz, EmmaRose, Solstice321  
\- Expel from badgerbabe  
\- Experience from Liz  
\- Explosive/explosion/explode from badgerbabe, Liz, EmmaRose, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Extract from badgerbabe  
\- Extreme from Liz  
\- Eye lashes from Megan Rachel  
\- Eyes from Juniper, Megan Rachel  
\- Eyesight from IndyElora, Juniper, Megan Rachel, Thowra


	6. Family, Friends, and Fainting

**Family, Friends, and Fainting**

* * *

 _ **Clay's Apartment**_

"FREEZE RIGHT THERE, MISTER!"

Clay gripped the bureau three steps from his bed and turned his head towards the bathroom. _Busted. Damn!_

"Where do you think you're going?" Stella finished pulling on her robe. She had not had an opportunity to shower in the last thirty-six hours and only left Clay's side for a ten-minute one, needing to wash away the grime.

"Thirsty."

"You have a glass of water on the nightstand. I put it there right before I went to shower."

"Wanted fruit juice." Clay observed the scowl on Stella's face and nearly flinched.

"March your handsome butt right back to bed, soldier."

"You think my ass is handsome?" Clay winked at her, trying to distract her from making him return to the friggin bed.

She withheld the smile which wanted to bloom. _Yes, I do, but that is beside the point at the moment._ "Don't be changing the subject. I'm not interested in dealing with Jason's ranting if he finds out you are out of the freaking bed again."

"He won't."

"Won't what? Find out? Rant fireballs?" Stella firmly placed her hands on her hips.

"Both. I won't tell, and he won't yell. I'm sick of laying in bed. I'm not feeble," Clay groused. Ever since returning from Ecuador, Jason and the entire team hovered, fawning over him, restricting his every attempt to move, and forcing him to remain in the hospital for much longer than he wanted ... two full weeks.

He only arrived home forty-eight hours ago, and the team insisted on staying for the first eight hours. He appreciated the concern, but his place was too small to house him, Stella, five burly guys, and one dog. Besides, they were smothering him … something he had enough of.

Stella pursed her lips as she stared at her frustrating boyfriend. "He will, and you realize I'll be falsely accused of not taking proper care of you and become the target of his diatribe."

"No, you won't."

"And who do you think got lambasted when you attempted to walk unassisted up the friggin stairs when I brought you home?"

"Jason directed his fury at me." Clay's features screwed up recalling his feeling of freedom from the hospital dissipating under Jason's fanatic glare at the foot of the stairwell and his admonishment to use the elevator.

"Yeah, but what you didn't hear after you nodded off was the verbal flogging Jason gave me. He and your whole team flipped out on me. Evidently, they're still angry with me for allowing you to drive yourself to base the day of your night exercise."

Stella blew out a breath. "I don't understand them. You were well enough to go out firing guns and running all over the place with them that night, so why are they freaking out about you driving."

Fatigue from standing catching up with him, Clay shuffled towards the bed, sat, and reached out a hand to Stella. When she linked fingers with him, he pulled her to sit beside him. "I'm sorry they yelled at you. Me driving isn't your fault, and I'll set them straight. I'm still figuring out what it means to be part of this brotherhood, this family … feels strange to me still."

He leaned over to Stella and kissed her. "I'll talk to Jace and let him know in no uncertain terms if he or any of the guys unload on you again, I'll be setting them on their asses. Jason can light my ass on fire all he wants, that is his right being my boss, but you are off limits."

Stella smiled. Clay was a frogman through and through, but he was also just a man. She loved the fact he would stand up for her … not that she needed him to, but his offer to do so against his frog family warmed her heart. "Do you want apple, orange or grape?"

Having forgotten his original reason for getting out of bed, Clay grinned. "Surprise me." After Stella gave him a quick peck on the forehead, he fluffed his feather pillow and laid down.

Entering the bedroom five minutes later with a tall glass of apple juice and a ham sandwich for Clay, Stella stopped, and her lips turned up at the corners as she noted he had fallen back to sleep. She set both items on the bedside table and went back to the bathroom to brush out her hair before putting on her PJs.

Caring for Clay might become a full-time job. If she wanted to keep any semblance of her own desires and career intact, she might need to agree to offers extended by the Bravo men to watch over Clay when she needed to be away. Being raised as an only child, she needed to learn how to rely on sisters and brothers in this fiercely protective family.

Once dressed, she slipped in beside him, pulled the flannel sheet over them both, and let her hand carefully drape over his waist. Her fingers flittered over his abdomen and chest with a feather-light touch. Luckily, the burns on his front had not been deep, and although the skin was still pink, they would heal without a scar. The same couldn't be said for his two stab wounds and the burn on his back.

Stella closed her eyes, nuzzled close to him inhaling his masculine scent, happy to have him home alive and in one piece. Loving a man so different from the men in the world she grew up in proved to be challenging at times. As a strong, fiercely independent woman, loving an equally strong and independent man, they must learn from each other in order to build a solid foundation. Sometimes it was easy … other times difficult … but ultimately worth the effort.

* * *

 _ **Four Weeks Later – Faculty Gala at Farris Gallery**_

Stella linked her arm in Clay's as they strolled into the art gallery after leaving their winter jackets with the coatcheck girl just inside the front entrance. With a bright smile, she teased, "I'm glad your five fathers granted you permission to leave the apartment."

Clay chuckled. "Not fathers, brothers."

"They act more like fanatical fathers, controlling your every move. Do you have a curfew?" She hugged his forearm.

"As a matter of fact, Jason expects me to call him when we arrive home." Clay scanned the fancy gathering, and although dressed in a suit, by the unwelcome glances he received, he might as well be wearing combat boots and his field uniform.

"You gonna call? Wait don't bother answering … yes, you'll call." Stella smiled up at Clay, so handsome in his suit, but she would take him in whatever he wore … preferably in their bedroom in his birthday suit, scars and all.

"Better than having five fanatics busting down my door if I fail to report."

"True." Spotting Gordon, Stella steered them towards the group.

As Stella engaged with her friends, Clay stood and listened. Most discounted him as Stella's fad and believed she would wise up one day and kick him to the curb. Clay didn't bother to disabuse them of the fallacy of their thinking. He and Stella, though from different worlds, clicked.

When the discussion moved into esoteric babble, Clay leaned over and whispered, "I'll be back in a moment."

Stella peered up at him. "Where are you going?"

"Men's room."

"On the way back would you snag me a glass of white wine?"

"Sure. You want any hors-d'oeuvres?"

"I'm famished, some of the fried mushrooms, please."

"Alrighty." Clay moved off to find the nearest restroom. He eyed the marble statues, appreciating the effort the artist put into carving them.

After taking care of business, washing his hands at the sink, Clay noted when two men entered. They were guys he met at one of Stella's faculty parties. He didn't care for either of them, but he put up with them because they were Stella's friends.

"Hey, Clay, right?" Morgan stated as he stopped next to Stella's boyfriend.

"Yeah." Clay reached for a paper towel.

"Can't believe Stella brought you to this high-class affair. You stick out like a sore thumb." Frank never like the guy Stella chose to date and was not above letting him know how much he didn't fit.

"Guess it isn't so classy if you're here," Clay retorted.

"Shouldn't you be off killing innocents in some foreign country to fulfill the dictates of this fascist regime?" Frank flung back.

Any response was cut off by the sound of gunfire. Clay raced to the door to find out what was happening. Frightened, Frank and Morgan ran to cower in the stalls.

Crouching at the doorway, Clay scanned the main gallery, searching for Stella. His heart beat a rapid staccato until he found her in a group being herded into a corner. He counted five gunmen armed with assault rifles. Although calling 911 would be most people's first inclination, Clay hit Jason's contact after he retrieved his cell from his front pocket.

"Hey, Kid. You home already?"

"No. I'm at Farris Gallery. Five men carrying AK-47s entered and fired off several rounds. From my vantage point, I can't tell if anyone is dead or if there are more hostiles."

Jason stood and signaled to Ray as he put the phone on speaker. "Where exactly are you?"

"In the men's restroom on the first floor. Stella is out there. I want to go to her."

"Stay where you are. I assume you are unarmed?"

"Not quite. Got my pocket knife." Clay fingered his small knife."

"Don't join a gunfight with a knife. You call the police?"

"No, you came to mind first."

"Sit tight, Kid. We're coming. And Clay …"

"Yeah?"

"Don't do anything foolish. You just qualified for returning to active duty, and I don't want you on the injured reserve again."

"Copy." Clay inched back into the restroom allowing the door to close, fighting his desire to rush out there and protect Stella.

* * *

 _ **Outside Farris Gallery**_

Jason, Ray, and Brock stood together behind the police line, all frustrated they could do nothing but observe. They had no authority to operate on home soil, and this fell to the local jurisdiction to handle.

Sonny, pulled from the strip joint he had been enjoying a few beers at before Jason's call, strode up to join them his hands shoved in his jacket pockets to ward off the cold of the freezing night. "What's the situation?"

"SWAT arrived and so did a negotiator. They are trying to contact those inside, but to no avail."

Trent jogged up to meet them, almost slipping on a frozen patch on the sidewalk. "The kid. He okay?"

"So far so good. He's still in the bathroom. Indicated no other shots fired since the initial rounds. He's antsy though. He can't stand Stella being out there without him." Jason raked a hand through his hair as he stomped his feet to keep them warm.

"Don't blame him. If it were Naima, yeah, I'd be chomping at the bit to go to her. And Jace, so would you if it was Alana." Ray met Jason's gaze and received a nod.

"SWAT is gearing up." Brock pointed to the group of seven men checking their weapons behind their armored vehicle.

Jason shouted, "Sergeant! I have information for you."

Sergeant James Fox turned and viewed the man who yelled, noting he waved to him. Leaving his men for a moment, he strode over through the slush lining the road. "Who are you?"

"Master Chief Hayes and one of my men is inside. He called and gave me details you will want to hear."

"Make it quick."

"He was in the latrine when the shots rang out. Two other friendlies are with him. Spenser spotted five hostiles with AK-47s but is unsure if there are more. They rounded up the attendees and put them in the far corner. I told him to stay put."

"Why didn't he call the police?"

"Training."

"What?" Fox's brows knitted together.

"Pounded into his head, I'm the first person he calls if the shit hits the fan. His name is Clay Spenser. You can call him if you need updated intel."

"Give me his number." Fox pulled out his phone and punched in the digits. Before hitting call, he asked, "Will his phone be in silent mode? I don't want to put him in danger."

"Yeah, the kid is smart. Would've been the second thing he did."

"Second?"

"First is to call me."

"Got it. Thanks." Fox hit send. And when it answered, he said, "This is Sergeant Fox, am I speaking with Clay Spenser?"

"Yes."

"Your master chief said you might be in a position to provide us with additional info." Fox moved back to his team.

Clay sighed. _So they're out there … probably pissed off they can't do anything … just like me._ "Yeah, give me a moment to take another scan."

"I don't want you leaving your cover." Fox put it on speaker so the rest of his men could listen in.

"I now see eight men, three more than the five I spotted earlier. Appears they moved everyone, about forty people, to the south corner near the marble statues."

"Can you hear anything?"

"No one is talking. Their faces are all covered in white, plastic masks, but they are all wearing suits like the guests."

"Anything else you can tell me?"

Clay focused on two men who set a backpack on a table and unzipped it. "Crap they have a shitload of C-4." He watched for another moment. "They're handing it out to the others, and they appear to be taking it to various locations." Clay's gut seized when one man put a block of the moldable explosives near Stella. "They're placing some around the hostages."

"Thank you, Spencer. Let's keep this line open, and you can feed me any new developments."

"Fuck, someone is coming towards the bathrooms. I'll leave my phone on in my pocket, try to feed you what I can without giving it away."

"Copy."

* * *

 _ **Inside Farris Gallery – Bathroom**_

Clay barely slipped the phone into his breast pocket before the bathroom door slammed open. He managed to position himself behind a half wall out of sight hoping to get the drop on the man. Though Jason and the cop said stay, he couldn't. The armed man would find him anyway so a plan formed in his head.

He waited until the door closed and the man came close enough before he launched his attack. His kick sent the submachine gun skittering across the floor, and the hostile staggering back for a brief moment before reaching for his handgun.

Not giving him an opportunity to withdraw the pistol, Clay and the masked man engaged in hand-to-hand fighting. Clay realized he must be up against a well-trained male when his moves were countered. They exchanged several fast blows before they ended up on the floor. Ground fighting would favor Clay … he enjoyed taking Judo lessons beginning as a teen and his SEAL training took him to the next level.

Peeking out of their stalls, Morgan and Frank could only stare as the two men fought it out.

Clay managed to flip the assailant and get him into a choke hold. As the man struggled, Clay applied pressure and continued to maintain his hold when the male went limp. Pushing off the unconscious man, Clay got to his knees and peered up at the two cowards. "Thanks for the help," he said sarcastically before he yanked off the mask, removed the man's belt and blue tie, then began undoing his own red tie.

"You killed him," Morgan stated.

"Not dead. Down for the count." Clay unholstered the pistol and tucked it into his pants waist at the back. He stood and grabbed the shoulders of the insentient man, dragging him to handicap accessible stall. He positioned him with his back against the base and head near the tank. He pulled the arms up and round to the other side and secured the man's wrists with his red necktie.

"What are you doing?" Frank asked.

"What does it look like?" Clay turned to the men. "Give me your ties."

"Use his. Mine is French silk," Frank groused.

"I need his. Give it over, or I'll take it." Clay glared.

Morgan began undoing his. "Why do you need that guy's tie?"

"Cause I'm going out there." Clay took Morgan's tie, knelt, and bound the hostile's ankles then moved the legs towards the hands, a quite uncomfortable position for the man in a backward C and used the belt to hog-tie the inert man around the toilet. He wouldn't be going anywhere.

"You don't need mine. He's secured." Frank held off removing his tie.

Standing, Clay moved into Frank's personal space. "Tie. Now."

Frank gulped at the fiery glare, took a step back, running into the wall, and began taking off his fine tie unsure why Clay needed it.

Once he had the length of fabric, Clay unrolled a mass of toilet paper and shoved it into the restrained man's mouth, fastening the makeshift gag with Frank's tie. Rising he said, "Now he can't yell for his buddies."

Going to the sink, Clay raked his fingers through his curls to put them in some semblance of order, re-tucked his shirt, and put on the blue tie before pulling out his cell. "Fox?"

"What the hell is going on?" Sergeant Fox stated.

"One assailant secured. I'm going to put on his mask and go out there to gather you more intel."

"No. Too risky." Fox stared at the Farris building. Whoever planned this knocked out all cameras, so they were completely blind. He didn't like going in without understanding what his men would face. The negotiator failed to elicit any response from those inside, though he continued to try.

"With all due respect, sir, I'm trained for situations like this. You need to know what you're up against and frankly, I'm not leaving my girlfriend and the others out there unprotected right next to explosives. You don't want forty innocent people dead any more than I do."

"Will you blend in?"

"Yeah. This guy's suit and mine are both navy, we are both wearing white shirts, I took his tie, and we're about the same build.

"I don't like this, but at this point, I don't have much choice." Fox sighed.

"No, you don't. Tell my boss … ah never mind. I'll tell him myself when this is all over. I'm not gonna be able to hear you, but I'll feed you details."

"Understood. When and if we need to come in. At the first flashbang, you hit the floor, remove the mask, and you stay down. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal." Clay put the cell in his pocket again, picked up the rifle and peered at Frank and Morgan. "You stay here and out of sight."

"You're not really going out there?" Frank asked.

Clay pulled the mask over his face. "Yes."

When the door shut, Morgan turned to Frank. "I think we have him all wrong. We never gave him a fair shake."

Frank shrugged. "Still don't like him and all he stands for. If it weren't for men like him going off to play war in countries that don't want us there in the first place, the world wouldn't always be attacking us."

Morgan shook his head. "You will never recognize your faulty logic. A strong military protects us and maintains our freedom. Men like Clay put their lives on the line every day so we can sit here and speak our minds." When Frank only smirked, Morgan stopped wasting his breath. Some people would never understand the important role the military played in keeping America the Land of the Free.

* * *

 _ **Inside Farris Gallery – Main Room**_

Clay stopped at the end of the hall and surveyed the room. He noted many of the females appeared frazzled, a few crying. The men were not in much better shape. He smiled, glad the mask hid his face when he spied Stella. She was no fragile flower. She stood erect, fearlessly scowling at their captors.

Taking stock of the situation, he whispered, "Fifteen armed men in the main area. In one corner, five are guarding all the guests except for four older men who have been separated and are on their knees with a man standing behind them with a handgun pointed at their heads. Appears they plan to execute them."

He recognized one of them to be one of Stella's advisors. A guy he actually liked. Flanagan enjoyed knocking back a stout ale in a pub and didn't come across as pretentious as most of the faculty … like Gordon.

Moving forward, he headed straight for the C-4 stuck to the wall near Stella. Luckily, the other masked men appeared to be engaged and didn't notice his movements. Approaching the explosive, he let his eyes flick to Stella.

Stella let out a small gasp but quickly stifled it. She would recognize Clay's blue eyes anywhere. _What is he doing?_

Clay realized she recognized him and gave a slight shake of his head. _Please don't say anything, don't give me away._ His gaze returned to the C-4. Relief flooded through him. He reached for his pocket knife and flipped it open. After glancing around to make sure he wouldn't be observed, he severed the detonator lead and made it appear as if it was still armed.

Stella's eyes widened at Clay's actions. _Oh my God, he is risking himself to save us. If they catch him, they'll kill him like they did the security guard at the front desk._ Then she caught his whisper and realized he must be communicating with someone outside.

"One explosive defused. Moving to the next one." Clay turned his gaze on Stella, their eyes meeting and communicating more than words. He took the chance to speak a little louder so she could hear him, "At the first bang drop to the floor, curl up, and don't move. Pass that along to the others."

He pivoted and started for the next block of C-4. His mind trying to determine who these men were and what they were after. They appeared well organized, and the explosives were military grade. As he skirted the ones holding Flanagan and the other three at gunpoint Clay overheard two of the armed attackers speaking French.

Halting at the next device, he listened as he disarmed it. He only picked up fragments of what they said but enough he filled in the rest, figuring out their plan. Moving again, Clay whispered, "This is a heist. They're planning to blow the place to cover their thefts. They are dressed like everyone so they can ditch their masks and blend in when things go to hell. You got about fifteen minutes to get in here before they set off the fireworks."

* * *

 _ **Outside Farris Gallery**_

Fox paced in the frigid weather as snow began to fall again and he addressed his team. "Facing fifteen armed subjects is a suicide scenario. No way we can take them into custody without fatalities. We don't have enough time to call up another team. Anyone got suggestions?"

The team rookie waited for a moment, hoping someone would have a better idea than him. Sarge likely wouldn't go for it, but when all the guys shook their heads, Felix Correa spoke up, "Sarge, this is somewhat unorthodox, but I think I have a solution."

"What?" Fox peered at his rookie, a former green team SEAL who joined the force after not making through to the draft.

"Well, I know Master Chief Hayes, not personally, never worked with him, but by reputation. He runs one of the top tier SEAL teams. I recognize the men standing with him. They're his men."

Turning to view the men, Fox considered the possibility. _It wouldn't be out of bounds … although not law enforcement, they would be well versed in tactics necessary. They only lack protective gear and weapons._

"Sarge, the backup tactical gear is still in the truck from our last exercise," Felix added.

"Grab it. He has a man inside, so he might be willing to help." Fox strode over to Hayes.

Jason spotted the sergeant moving towards him as did the others. They all became quiet as Fox stopped.

"Master Chief Hayes I have a favor to ask. My rookie tells me you and your men are SEALs. We have a critical situation which doesn't permit me time to bring in another SWAT team. We have weapons and Kevlar vests available. We could use your help. According to Spenser, fifteen armed men plan to use explosions to cover a heist in about ten minutes. It would be foolhardy to go in with only seven men and most likely end up with fatalities… both my men and civilians. Are you willing to help?"

"Fuck yeah!" Sonny exclaimed. He had been frustrated standing here doing nothing, worrying about the kid … and Stella.

Jason nodded. "What do you need us to do?"

"Come with me. We can plan tactics while you suit up."

Ray lifted the police tape, and all the guys ducked under, glad to finally be about to do something other than standing here.

* * *

 _ **Inside Farris Gallery – Main Room**_

So far, luck had been on his side, and none of the hostiles picked up on his activities. Clay only had one more explosive to disarm. He strolled towards its location and glanced again at the four men on their knees. Clay realized they were being used to control the rest of the attendees. No one would attempt to run if one of their friends or colleagues would be executed.

Approaching the food table, he spotted the fried mushrooms Stella had wanted. Although at first, he kicked himself for not being right beside her when things went down, he was now glad he'd been in the restroom. A fortunate fluke which worked to everyone's advantage.

Reaching the last explosive Clay pulled out his knife again, flicked it open and set to work.

"Fabien, que fais-tu?" Jean-Luc Fouquet yelled. The last-minute addition to their group when Pierre came down with the flu appeared to be somewhat of a feckless explosives expert who tended to keep quiet. When Fabien didn't respond, Fouquet picked up a fish from the table and flung it, whacking Fabien in the back of the head.

Clay whipped around and spotted a fish on the floor. _What the hell … flying fish?_

"Fabien, pourquoi tu joues avec les bombes?" Fouquet shouted.

 _Oh shit. Guess I'm Fabien. Wants to know why I'm fiddling with the bombs. Will he recognize I'm not him if I speak?_ Taking a chance, Clay mumbled he was only making sure they were armed properly, "S'assurer juste qu'ils sont bien armés."

Fouquet nodded, turned and headed to the back were several others were gathering the items they came for. Getting kicked off the Toronto Police Force, thanks to charges of firing without cause coupled with his previous disciplinary actions due to his run-in with Daniel Broderick, pissed him off.

After being fired, he hooked up with several felons and other former officers who had been discharged years before for their part in teaching Broderick you don't fink on your fellow officers to IA. The life of crime was much more lucrative than being a constable, and their skills gave them an advantage, understanding the police tactics which would be followed.

Fouquet decided to flee Canada, branching out to the U.S. when things became too hot after he received a visit from three men, a black-haired man, an amber-eyed man, and one as fierce as an enraged highland warrior with a scar across his face. They let him know if he ever so much as frowned in Blondie's direction again he would forfeit his life.

He asked who Blondie was and the hazel eyes of the raven-haired man erupted in flames as he said Constable Dan Broderick. He believed them and decided leaving was in his best interest. Besides, here they were unknown and not in any system. Not that they planned on getting caught.

Clay blew out a relieved breath when the man walked away. _Must've said the right thing. Fate is being kind today._ "Final explosive disarmed," he whispered giving Fox details, knowing the SWAT team would take things from here. Clay began to make his way towards Stella.

* * *

 _ **Outside Farris Gallery**_

Geared up and ready for entry, Bravo team would come in from the rear, while SWAT's Alpha Team entered from the front. The two-pronged approach would split the focus of the hostiles, giving them an advantage.

As Sonny adjusted his grip on the MP5, he said, "Our fair-haired boy better hit the floor, or I'm gonna beat his ass."

"You'll have to stand in line, Jason will have first shot," Trent quipped.

"Quit flapping your jaws and focus. Tangos will look like the guests, and we don't want any friendly fire fatalities," Ray scolded.

The men shut up and prepared for the go signal from Fox.

* * *

 _ **Inside Farris Gallery – Main Room**_

Halfway to Stella, flashbangs erupted, and Clay spied the man who threw the fish at him grabbing Stella to use her as a shield. Instead of going to the floor, he ran flat-out in her direction. Since he couldn't take the chance of hitting Stella, he had the foresight to drop the AK-47 as he started to rip off the mask … he didn't want to be mistaken for one of the criminals.

Bravo team entered, taking out active shooters firing at them. All understood cops worked under different protocols and they had been given a brief run down. As some fled, they pursued them to take them alive.

Alpha team stayed in formation as they moved inside, breaking off into two groups. As Felix followed his sergeant, he spotted one subject running for the hostages, taking off his mask and dropping his weapon, hoping to fit in, another one grabbed a female and yanked her towards him as he fired at him.

Using his sniper skills, he aimed and fired off a round in the split-second before the running felon went flying at the one holding the woman. A cry rent the air as someone yelled, "Stella down!" Both men hit the ground. Felix couldn't believe his eyes as the one on top struggled with the still masked man on the bottom.

Felix didn't have time to consider more as a volley of gunfire aimed in his direction began. He, sarge, and his teammate dove for cover behind a marble statue.

Fouquet stared into a face he didn't recognize. _This isn't Fabien._ He registered the explosions didn't go off as planned when the front door was breached. He attempted to point his handgun at the man.

Clay grasped the barrel of the pistol, struggling to move it off him. He and the man rolled over and over as he fought to gain control. On the fifth roll, the gun went off.

Stella screamed when Clay's body draped over the man who tried to seize her. "Clay … noooo!" On her knees, staying low, she crawled to him as more flashes erupted around her. In a fog, feeling like her world fractured into a million pieces, believing she watched Clay's final moment of life, she fumbled to pull him to her and roll him over.

Her first glimpse of the man beneath took her breath away … lifeless brown eyes stared up at her. Flicking her gaze to Clay, she found his blue orbs peering up at her. Stella's heart fluttered. "You're alive."

"Yeah," Clay breathed out as the gunfire ceased. After a glance around, noting the SWAT team had a handle on things, he sat up, then pushed up, getting his feet under him. Pivoting, he clasped Stella's hand and drew her up with him. He framed her face with his hands, staring into her frightened eyes. "Thought I wouldn't get to you in time."

Her knees going weak at the thought of Clay almost dying, Stella clung to his jacket and moved her head to his shoulder as she became faint with emotions washing through her. His strong arms encircled her, holding her up.

A surge of fury came forth, and Stella pulled back. Her voice came out fierce, "Why did you do something so foolhardy? You could've been shot!" She slapped his upper arm. And when her hand came away bloody, her knees gave out. She would've sunk to the floor if not for Clay holding her. "You were shot."

"Nah, it's that guy's blood. Come on." Clay put his arm around Stella's waist and guided her over to the cop who was now near the other hostages. Many of the women appeared to have fainted, and Gordon too, which almost made Clay laugh. Noting the sergeant stripes, he said, "Sergeant Fox?"

Fox turned at the familiar voice. "Spenser?"

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you for your help. This would've been a fiasco without you defusing the bombs. Got some help from your team too." Fox nodded towards Bravo team who were leading several cuffed men to the front to hand off to officers flooding into the building.

"Sir, the man over there," Clay pointed to the dead man, "we fought for his gun, and it went off. He's dead. I expect you will need an after-action report from me."

"Yes." Noting the blood on the woman's hand, he said, "Ma'am are you injured?"

"No only transfer from …" her head turned to the man lying in a pool of blood.

"If it is alright, I'd like to take Stella out of here," Clay understood the aftereffects of adrenaline would start to make Stella shaky, and he wanted her closer to EMS in case she became shocky.

"Fine. Stay close and when we're ready I'll find you."

* * *

 _ **Outside Farris Gallery**_

Riding the downward crest of his own adrenaline rush, Clay maneuvered Stella outside and to the first EMS gurney. "Sit and let them check you over." Stella opened her mouth to protest, and Clay said, "Humor me, please. Let me return the favor and take care of you for once."

Stella nodded and sat. She began shivering and appreciated the blanket Clay put over her shoulders before he stepped back to allow the paramedics to take her vitals.

"Sir, do you need to be checked out?" a medic asked.

"No, I'm fine."

Several minutes later, an officer hurried over and stopped when he approached. "Are you Spenser?"

"Yes."

"Come with me, please. The sergeant is ready to talk with you."

As Stella started to get off the gurney, Clay shook his head. "Stay here. I won't be long. I promise."

"Okay." Stella reached out a hand to him. When he grasped it, she pulled him close and whispered, "Thank you for saving me."

Clay grinned and kissed her forehead. "Be back in a moment." He followed the cop to where Fox stood outside near a snowbank.

"Spencer, this is Officer Hanson, he will take your statement, then you will be free to go."

Clay reached behind to his waist and withdrew the firearm. "You'll be wanting this. I took it off the man I tied up in the bathroom." Hanson pulled out an evidence bag and Clay dropped the pistol in as he asked, "My team?"

Fox replied, "They'll write out their statements and debrief with us at the station. Good work in there. No civilian or police fatalities when we breached because of you. Thanks again."

"Glad I could help."

Hanson said, "Let's start with your full name."

"Clayton Spenser, but I prefer Clay."

"Please start at the beginning and tell me what occurred."

Clay began to tell him, but the officer was interrupted by a colleague. Halting to wait for their conversation to end, Clay started to feel the shakes that came with the end of his adrenaline surge. He tried to control the tremors, but the freezing weather didn't help much since he had not retrieved his overcoat from the coatroom inside.

As Hanson's dialog dragged on, Clay leaned against the brick building, suddenly fatigued … more so than a normal drop in his epinephrine. He lifted an arm to wave at Jason and the others as they walked past, and his arm felt like a five-ton weight.

Becoming dizzy as aches in his body from his two fights started letting themselves be known, he wanted to sit down. This was not a normal come-down from stress. His eyes sought out Trent … the one man who seemed to always know what his physical state meant.

Trent stopped so suddenly that Sonny ran into the back of him.

"Forget how to walk?" Sonny grumbled.

"The kid. Something isn't right." Trent changed directions. His pace quickened as Clay's gaze fixated on him.

"What the hell?" Sonny joined Trent, and when Clay began to fall, his hand flailing out to grasp something to hold him up, Sonny called over his shoulder, "Jace! Clay's down."

As Clay fell, his eyes closed and his world folded in on itself.

Jason turned from speaking with Fox, and his eyes landed on Clay as the kid face-planted in the snowbank. He was running in the next instant along with Ray and Brock following Trent and Sonny.

Hanson shouted, "I need help over here!"

Trent pushed the officer out of the way, dropping to his knees and turned Clay to get his face out of the snow. He tapped his cheeks several times until Clay's eyes fluttered open. "Hey, Kid, what happened?"

"Um … unsure … lightheaded."

Sonny blew out a breath. "Pretty boy fainted."

Clay frowned. "Prefer passed out."

"Not like the kid," Jason said his worry ratcheting up a notch.

"What's going on over here?" Fox inquired as he joined the group, followed by his rookie.

"Give me some light," Trent said as his he wiped the wetness off his hand from turning Clay over.

Hanson flicked on his flashlight.

"Shit he's bleeding," Ray stated.

"Not mine, it belongs to the guy I took a flying leap at to save Stella," Clay mumbled as he fought to stay with them.

"Like hell it's not!" Ray pointed to the droplets of red in the snow.

"Fuck, his whole jacket sleeve is soaked. Help me get the damned thing off him."

Jason and Brock sat Clay up as Trent and Sonny pulled his navy jacket from him. The white shirt sleeve underneath was now crimson.

"How the hell didn't you realize you were shot?" Brock asked.

"Adrenaline," Trent responded for Clay as the kid's head lolled.

"Who shot him is what I want to know. Clay would know if one of the felons fired at him," Jason stated.

Felix swallowed a lump. _Oh shit._ His voice faltered as he confessed, "I think it was me." Four angry men surrounded him. _I'm a dead man. Hayes is notorious for protecting his men._

"Not the time guys. Get a damned paramedic over here. He's lost a significant amount of blood." Trent ripped open the sleeve revealing the wound.

Jason glared at Felix and jabbed his finger in the man's chest. "We're not done."

Sonny raced for one of the EMS rigs yelling for medics, which alerted Stella. She hopped off the gurney and began running to where Sonny had come from. She pushed through the guys, making her way to Clay's side. She glimpsed his bloody arm. "You said you weren't shot. It wasn't your blood."

Clay tried to downplay how bad he felt. "Funny thing … um, adrenaline can—"

"Shut up and save your breath." Stella grasped one of his hands as her other hand moved to brush the wet curls from his forehead.

"Yes, ma'am," Clay attempted fake levity, but his eyes drifted shut as he faded out again.

As the medics arrived with their gear, Trent jumped right in with them as the others stood back and observed. The three lifted Clay onto the stretcher out of the freezing snow, covered him in a warm blanket, put an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, started an IV, and wrapped his wound in a pressure bandaged before rushing him off to a waiting ambulance. Stella and Trent went with them.

Jason turned his flaming eyes back on Felix. "When did you shoot him?"

Felix maintained his ground, but a flicker of fear raced through him as he faced a furious Jason Hayes. "A split-second decision. I thought he was one of the subjects."

Fox stepped in when he noticed news cameras pointed in their direction. "We will not discuss this in public. Back at the station will be soon enough." Turning to the incident officer, he asked, "Did you get Spenser's statement?"

"No, he fainted—"

"Passed out," Sonny overrode the man.

Eyeing the fuming man, Hanson changed his words. "As I was saying he passed out before we began."

Fox nodded and blew out a frustrated breath not looking forward to the next hour or so in the room with his men and Hayes' men. If not handled carefully, things might devolve into fisticuffs because Hayes was pissed Felix shot Clay and Felix's teammates would defend him as fiercely as Hayes' would Clay. "We must debrief before you I can release you."

"You let Trent go," Sonny argued.

Jason calmed his fury. "We'll go. But if Trent calls and things go south for Spenser, we're leaving."

"Agreed." Fox grabbed Felix's forearm and pushed him forward in front of him creating a barrier between his rookie and the men who wanted to tear Felix a new one.

* * *

 _ **Hospital – ER Waiting Room**_

Stella prowled the waiting room as her emotions flew from being furious to freaked-out. She had never seen so much blood, and she kicked herself for not noticing Clay … the man she loved … was bleeding all the while he took care of her. Stella murmured, "What does this say about me? Why didn't I notice?"

"The kid didn't even notice, so cut yourself some slack," Trent said as he held out a paper cup of what might pass as coffee.

"How come he didn't?" She took the cup and sipped, her mouth twisting into disgust, wondering if he gave her foul coffee on purpose.

Trent chuckled at her face. "Yeah, coffee sucks. Had better in Afghanistan, and that is saying a lot." He tossed his full cup into the wastebasket. "As for why he didn't, adrenaline is a factor, but so is his concern for you. He was so focused on ensuring you were alright that his own well-being flew out the window."

"You really think that is what happened?" Stella forced herself to drink the caffeine she needed to stay awake.

"Yeah, kid's done it in the field several times when he was focused on saving our assess." Trent slumped into a seat.

Stella sat next to him. "Like when?"

"Can't tell you much detail. Once we were stuck in the snow, won't say where, and he maintained overwatch up a fir tree, freezing his ass off. Thought he might lose a finger or two from frostbite, but once he warmed up, his skin pinked up too.

"Another time, me, Sonny, and Ray got pinned in a foxhole. He climbed a rickety framework to get high and take out the tangos. When the whole structure came down, and he fell about twenty feet, the kid ran with us all the way to exfil. After we jumped in the helo, I noticed a huge fragment of wood in his thigh, Clay never once said anything. When I pointed it out, he said, 'No wonder I couldn't run as fast.' So, I'm not surprised he didn't notice he was shot tonight."

"Does he get hurt a lot more often than I know about?" Stella gave up on the foul-tasting beverage.

Trent shrugged. "You know the significant ones, things that sideline him. Better you're not aware of everything. Clay wouldn't want you to worry over the minor stuff."

"Minor? Falling from twenty feet, running with a wood fragment impaling him, and getting frostbite are considered minor?" She stared with her mouth agape, flabbergasted and flummoxed by Trent's thinking … heck Clay's thinking.

Shrugging again, Trent patted Stella's shoulder. "In the grand scheme of things, yeah, they're minor when compared to what could be the outcome of some of the FUBAR missions we end up on."

"Not making me feel any better, Trent." Stella frowned at him as all kinds of terrible images of what might happen to Clay filled her mind.

"Sorry. If it makes you feel better, we take care of him, and he takes care of us. He is our brother."

"You all act more like fathers," Stella let slip.

Trent chuckled. "I guess we do at that. But given what an asshole his real father is … he can use all the family, brothers or fathers, he can get. And you. We like you. You stepped up and took damned fine care of him after we returned from Ecuador.

"Clay confided to me you wouldn't let him get out of bed for a week once he was released from the hospital. You threatened to call Jason to keep him there. Thanks. We owe you for putting your life on hold to help him."

Stella shook her head. "My life isn't on hold. Clay is part of my life. The most important part. Yeah, I love what I do, and I will get my doctorate, but Clay is my first priority … I love him more."

The ER door opening stopped further comments as Clay's doctor approached them. They both stood.

"Happy to report the GSW is a through and through in the fleshy part of the arm and missed anything vital. He lost consciousness due to the adrenaline drop and the shock to his system. We want to monitor him for a few hours to ensure he remains stable then he can go home. He'll be good as new in a few weeks. If you want to visit him, I'll take you back."

Trent grinned. "You go, Stella. I need to phone Jason to inform him of Clay's status before I join you."

Stella hurried after the doctor. Trent's grin increased. Relationships were hard to maintain in their line of work, but he had high hopes Clay and Stella would have a life-long one. He could've called Jason later, but he wanted to give the lovebirds a few moments alone before all of Bravo team descended upon the kid.

* * *

 _ **Three Weeks Later – Training Field**_

Clay made it up the hill first, smoking the rest of the team. His face-splitting grin greeted each one as they joined him. "Five cases of beer coming my way," he gloated.

"I'm getting you the hoppiest, most skanky, foreign beer I can find," Sonny retorted.

Clay chuckled, happy to return to active duty as of today. Last Friday, seven days ago, had been an act in futility to get Jason to allow him to return even though the doc cleared him. All Jason replied to his repeated requests was go have fun with your girlfriend for the next week.

So he did. They took a trip to Stella's friend Morgan's cabin. Clay was still surprised Morgan offered to allow them to use it and Gordon and Flanagan offered to cover all her classes for a week. They enjoyed lazy days of curling up in front of a roaring fire in the log cabin. Quite romantic Stella claimed. He and Stella spent the nights in bed engaged in passionate lovemaking. Both returned yesterday fresh and ready to tackle the future.

Jason grinned, glad to have the team whole again. He took to heart Alana's suggestion to allow Clay and Stella time to solidify their relationship. Alana said the young lovers would need a strong link if they were to survive the rigors of SEAL family life. A brief time of being free and easy would allow each to draw upon pleasant memories when the crap hit the fan … as it inevitably would.

"So whatever happened with Felix?" Trent asked.

Ray said, "When we debriefed, it became clear the situation was frenetic, and Felix made a decision in the heat of the moment believing he was protecting hostages. He didn't receive any sort of reprimand. He was actually aiming at Fouquet who had Stella, and when Clay jumped Fouquet, the bullet hit Clay instead."

"So the friendly fire my fault," Clay said waiting for the ax to fall for disobeying Jason's order to stay in the bathroom.

Jason shook his head. "No, we lay this at the feet of Fouquet and his men. Both you and Felix were protecting people."

"But you told me to stay put," Clay eyed Jason, floored he didn't blame him.

"You did what was necessary. Forty-three people, you included, are alive because you had the balls to act when others cowered. I'll never firebrand your ass for taking calculated risks … and that is an example of one. You used your brains and your training."

Clay couldn't help the smile which flourished at the compliment.

Sonny shoved Clay and teased, "Don't be letting that make your head swell, pretty boy. You might faint again."

"I didn't faint, I passed out," Clay retorted.

"Same thing."

Clay launched himself at Sonny taking his teammate to the ground as he said, "Is not, fainting is girly, and I'm not."

"You got goldie locks hair … so, yeah, you're girly."

Clay got Sonny in a choke hold. "So you're gonna tell people you lost to a girl?"

As the two brothers wrestled, the others looked on with grins. All understood it was nothing more than friendly fighting … brothers hassling one another … family fun.

.

* * *

 **AN:** I've seen a lot of hate Stella FF, and I think she is a strong intelligent woman (though I don't share many of her views), and Clay needs one to keep up with him. I like that they come from different worlds and are trying to make things work as they learn about each other's world. Anyway ... this one wasn't mission related, but I hope you still enjoyed. Let me know what you think.

Oh, and for readers of my published books, you might remember Constable Fouquet from FORSAKEN, SERENITY, and SECRETS. And this incident will be mentioned in my next novel OUTCAST, which I'm diligently working on.

Suggestions for G and H welcome. Contributions for F are ...

\- Facts from Shellymae88  
\- Face/faces from Juniper, Megan Rachel  
\- Fail/failure from badgerbabe, CB14girl, Juniper, OneChicagoPD, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Faint/fainted/fainting from badgerbabe, Effie17, IndyElora, Juniper, NetMyne01, Poolie, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Fair from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Fake from badgerbabe  
\- Fall/fell/fallen/falling from AeroWright, badgerbabe, CB14girl, Guest, Liz, OneChicagoPD, Poolie, Shellymae88  
\- False/fasely from badgerbabe, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Falter from badgerbabe  
\- Family from CB14girl, Liz, OneChicagoPD, Shellymae88  
\- Famished from Lunary  
\- Fanatics from Liz  
\- Fast from Lunary, OneChicagoPD  
\- Fastened from OneChicagoPD  
\- Fatal/fatality from badgerbabe, Lunary  
\- Fate from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Father/fatherly/fatherhood from CB14girl, IndyElora, Juniper, OneChicagoPD, Tigerlily, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Fatigue from NetMyne01, Poolie, Tigerlily  
\- Fault from OneChicagoPD, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Favor from IndyElora  
\- Fear/frightened from badgerbabe, floopdeedoopdee, IndyElora, Juniper, Lunary, Megan Rachel, Megth, OneChicagoPD, Tigerlily, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Feather from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Features from Megan Rachel  
\- Feeble from Megan Rachel  
\- Feelings/feel/felt from Liz, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Feet from Megan Rachel  
\- Felon/felonY from badgerbabe  
\- Female from Megan Rachel  
\- Fight from IndyElora, Juniper, OneChicagoPD, Tigerlily  
\- Final/finally from Lunary  
\- Fine from badgerbabe  
\- Finger/fingers from badgerbabe, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Finish from Lunary  
\- Fire from Chgrgal, Effie17, IndyElora, Juniper, Liz, Lunary, Megan Rachel, Megth, NetMyne01, Poolie  
\- Fireworks from NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Fish from Megan Rachel  
\- Flail from badgerbabe  
\- Flames from Megan Rachel, NetMyne01, OneChicagoPD  
\- Flash from Juniper  
\- Flashbang from Chgrgal  
\- Flicked from Liz  
\- Flickered from badgerbabe  
\- Flinch from badgerbabe  
\- Fling/flung from Megan Rachel  
\- Flipped from OneChicagoPD  
\- Flogged from NetMyne01  
\- Flood/flooded from Chgrgal  
\- Flu from OneChicagoPD, Poolie  
\- Fluke from badgerbabe  
\- Flutter from badgerbabe  
\- Flying from Juniper, Liz, Megan Rachel, OneChicagoPD, Tigerlily, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Focus from CB14girl  
\- Fog from OneChicagoPD  
\- Food from Megan Rachel, Poolie  
\- Force/forced from badgerbabe, Liz, OneChicagoPD, Tigerlily  
\- Forearm from Shellymae88  
\- Forehead from NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Forget/forgotten/forgetfulness from OneChicagoPD, Tigerlily  
\- Fortunate from badgerbabe  
\- Foxhole from NetMyne01  
\- Fracture/fractured from badgerbabe, IndyElora, Juniper, kookiemonster318, Liz, Megth, NetMyne01, Poolie, Tigerlily, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Fragile from badgerbabe, Liz, NetMyne01  
\- Frame/framed from Megan Rachel, OneChicagoPD, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Framework from Victoria-Annxx  
\- France/French from Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Frantic from Liz  
\- Frazzled from Liz  
\- Freak/freaked from floopdeedoopdee, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Free/freed/freedom from Lunary, OneChicagoPD, Liz, Megan Rachel  
\- Freezing from floopdeedoopdee, NetMyne01, Tigerlily  
\- Friday from Megan Rachel  
\- Friendly Fire from Poolie  
\- Friends/friendship from Lunary, Megan Rachel, OneChicagoPD, Poolie  
\- Frogman from NetMyne01  
\- Frost bite/frost nip from kookiemonster318, OneChicagoPD, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Fruit from Lunary  
\- Frustrate/frustrated/frustration from badgerbabe, Tigerlily  
\- FUBAR from IndyElora  
\- Fumbled from NetMyne01  
\- Fun/funny from Lunary, Liz  
\- Fury from Juniper


	7. Grief and Guilt

**Grief and Guilt**

* * *

 ** _Gravesite_**

Clay stood erect with an emotionless mask firmly affixed to cover his pain … both physical and psychological. His chest, where the round he took in Mumbai, still hurt like hell. The bruising extensive both internal and external and often left him with a feeling of drowning when he drew in breaths. Though being here, at Adam's grave, hurt a hundred times worse … his grief profound and guilt overwhelming.

 _No matter what Ray said, Adam's dead because I slowed us down. His wife is a widow and his daughter fatherless because of me. Had I reacted faster, I could've shot the guy with the s-vest … saved him. Wouldn't have had too if I hadn't been the weakest link in the first place._

After the presentation of the flag and the honors of the gun salute completed, people began to disperse from the graveside service. No buzzing phones interrupted this funeral as they had Alana's. Clay stayed in place, unmoving, continuing to stare at the coffin. He wanted to cry, but couldn't. He needed to scream but found his throat constricted. He desired to take Adam's place, but that wasn't possible.

Stella stood by the car waiting for Clay. He had been closed off ever since he returned. He told her to stay at her place … he wanted to be alone. She had argued, it ended in a terrible row which brought Derek from across the hall bursting into Clay's apartment. She left but asked Derek to keep an eye on him.

This last mission messed with Clay's head left him grief-stricken, and she was powerless to help him. She turned to Jason where he stood with the rest of the team, essentially waiting for Clay to leave with them. She strolled over, and her voice came out a little unsteady. "How is he doing? He won't return my calls."

Ray answered for Jason, who he could tell still carried a weight of guilt on his shoulders believing if he had been there, Adam would still be alive. "He's managing."

"Managing? Doesn't look like it to me. He's lost weight. I can tell. Since he doesn't want me there, which one of you is watching out for him?" Stella didn't want to sound bitchy, though she did, she was only concerned for Clay and didn't understand how to navigate these waters yet.

When the guys all refused to make eye contact, Stella's gut churned. "He's pushed you all away too. Hasn't he?"

"He needs a little time to cope in his own way," Brock said.

Stella pursed her lips as she eyed them all. "Bullshit. He needs the strength of the family he's come to rely on." Knowing she was hitting below the belt, but wanting them to help Clay, Stella said, "Is this how you would help him if I died as Alana did? Leave him alone when he is clearly lost at sea. In one year's time, he lost his best friend Brian and now his mentor and friend Adam."

Jason's eyes flared at the mention of Alana. He had attempted to talk to Clay, been rebuffed, and didn't push as he normally would … because Alana's death was still too fresh in his mind. His grief unbearable, his world still in chaos. "Don't you dare—"

"Dare what?" Stella shot back. "Care about Clay? Want everyone to step up as they did for you after your wife died? His loss may not be the love of his life like yours, Jason, but loss is loss and grief is grief. I don't know what happened on the mission, but I can tell he blames himself."

"He doesn't. I talked to him on the plane," Ray defended.

"Talk to or listened to? Two very different things. You can't order someone not to feel. You might all be badasses, but you're still human and with that comes emotions whether you want to acknowledge that to anyone else."

Sonny glanced over at Clay. He hated hearing Stella's words … she spoke the truth. "We've left the kid alone too long."

Jason clasped his hands behind his head and turned to study Clay. _I'm fucking up again with him. He is still a rookie. He's only been off Green Team for a year. Sure he's lost men in his team before … but never like this._ "We'll take care of him."

"You better. I want to help him, but he can't even tell me what happened on the mission besides Adam died. I don't have a grasp of what occurred, so I'm going at this blind. He wouldn't even allow me to hug him when he first arrived home. When I came up behind him and embraced him, Clay pulled away, hissed at me, and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door. That isn't like him. We've argued before, and he never behaved that way."

"Probably his bruised chest still hurt," Trent said.

"What?" Stella's eyes widened. "He was injured?"

Ray peered at Stella. "He didn't tell you?"

"No. He was home all of ten minutes before he was telling me to leave and five minutes later Derek was busting in. As I said, he won't return my calls. How bad was he hurt?" Stella's eyes bored into Ray.

"Took a gunshot to his chest in the vest. Not comfortable, but he completed the mission." Ray gave her the shortened, vague version leaving out Clay had not been breathing.

Her gaze softening, she shifted to Trent. "Did you check him out or make him go visit the base doctor?"

Trent's eyes dropped to the ground as he grimaced. Upon arrival, he had forgotten to ensure Clay went to the doc. Everyone was so focused on Adam's death.

Gobstruck, Stella gaped. "You didn't, did you?"

Guilt-ridden, Trent shook his head.

Having heard enough, Stella wanted to kick each of them in the groin for letting Clay down. She had counted on them being there for him when he pushed her away. They had been there for Clay every other time without fail.

"Great, just great. You left him all alone and didn't make sure he was okay physically. No wonder he has trouble trusting people … those he counts on always seem to let him down." Stella stalked over to Clay. Enough was enough. She loved him and wouldn't allow him to self-destruct.

"She's right. I gave him platitudes on the plane. Told him this isn't about him … but it is. He was struggling, and I didn't bother to listen. He said Adam reamed him for jumping on a grenade in training and he couldn't understand why Adam did what he did." Ray watched as Stella approached Clay and the kid didn't acknowledge her.

"He froze afterward. Couldn't respond to Havoc," Sonny said. The touchy-feely stuff difficult for him to deal with.

"Not froze … shock," Trent offered. "I should've realized … but he appeared to have shaken it off."

"Adam told him to shake it off, so he did as ordered. At least outwardly. He also said he felt like the weakest link, and he was having trouble catching his breath." Brock reflected on the events with new eyes. "Clay's blaming himself. He might need some time off to get his head on straight."

"No. He needs to jump back in … get back on the horse. Otherwise, he is gonna second-guess himself right out of DEVGRU." Jason started towards Clay. He would be damned if he would lose Clay that way. The kid didn't need coddling, he needed to rebuild his confidence.

* * *

 _ **Clay's Apartment**_

Glaring at four of five men in his unit, Clay couldn't believe they told Stella he'd been shot, shanghaied him at the graveyard, and forced themselves into his place. He contemplated calling the police and reporting them as trespassers … but if he went for a phone, they would gang up on him to stop him. Not one of them would listen when he told them to leave him the fuck alone.

Sonny shut the fridge after checking the contents. He found only a stem of grapes, two bottles of craft beer, a half-eaten gyro, a clove of garlic, and a can of soda. Stella had been right about him not eating since there were also no take-out wrappers in his garbage. Covering his actions, Sonny groused, "Don't you have any decent beer?"

"Don't like my beer … leave. I'm sure you can find one at Glitter Girls," Clay griped referring to the strip club Sonny frequented.

Grabbing a soda instead of the crap beer, Sonny returned to the living area and sat on the edge of the couch as he popped it open.

Trent opened the door, his med kit slung over his shoulder. He would've been here sooner, but he had to go home to grab it and to call the team doc. He glanced at Jason. "You tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Clay asked.

"Take that as a no. Off with your jacket and shirt, kid. You never bothered to get checked out by the doc." Trent moved toward Clay.

"Don't need to be … just bruising." Clay crossed his arms, refusing to be goaded into complying. He withheld the hiss, but couldn't stop the grimace from showing from his motion.

Sonny guzzled the root beer then crushed the can. "Fine by me if you want to do this the hard way. Me, Brock, Jason, and Ray can strip you down so Trent can take a gander at your chest." He stood and took a step toward Clay. "What will it be, Mr. GQ?"

Clay glanced at Jason, Ray, and Brock. They all shifted and would make good on Sonny's threat. If he were feeling up to par, he would grapple with them, but as it was, he grasped he would lose at this point. "Fine, but this isn't a goddamn peep show." He pivoted and strode to his bedroom as he shucked his jacket.

Sonny sat back down and grinned as Trent followed Spenser into the room.

As Clay unbuttoned his shirt, Trent asked, "Are you still experiencing pain?"

Turning to face Trent, Clay responded. "Occasionally, but bruising will do that."

Trent's brows shot up upon viewing Clay's chest. "Jesus Christ! Why the hell didn't you go to the doc … or call me?" He stepped closer, and his raised voice brought the rest of the guys into the room.

"Fuck! A little privacy." Clay spun around, displaying his back to them, hiding the massive black and purple contusion covering the front of his torso.

Jason strode forward, noting all the bruising and several deep gouges on the kid's back too. "Thought you said he only got hit in the chest. Where the hell did the rest of this gouging come from?" His hand landed on Clay's shoulder, his grip gentle as he squeezed. When Spenser flinched, he maintained his grasp.

Clay remained still, he forgot about the state of his back until Jason spoke. When Jason's hand landed, he wanted to pull away. He didn't deserve anyone's care or concern. He screwed up and Adam was gone as a result.

Another part of him whispered to hold still and accept the care of his brothers. Clay was drowning again. The weight of his grief rather than his father pulling him into the depths of hell.

Jason recognized the kid was hurting, not only physically. The shadows under his eyes indicated Spenser had not slept much since returning five days ago. Pitching his voice in a tone he only used when Clay was injured in the field and needed comfort, Jason said, "Sit down and let Trent exam those gouges." He kept hold as Clay complied.

Moving to the corner of his bed, Clay sat, surprised Jason took a seat next to him and didn't remove his hand … one which Clay wanted to grab as a lifeline. He had shoved them all away for the past five days, but he needed them … more than he realized until this very moment.

Ray came forward with Trent. "He landed on his back. Could've happened then, but they appear fresh … newer."

Trent pulled out his supplies, setting them on the mattress. "I'm gonna listen to your lungs first then clean the gashes on your back. How did you get those? Nothing in your body armor would cause them, and Ray's right, they're more recent."

Gazing at the ground, Clay came clean. "Went for a run yesterday. Slipped on gravel and went down a hill on my back."

"Well, that makes more sense." Trent put the stethoscope to Clay's back and instructed, "Deep breaths." He listened. Though a little tight, he didn't note any rails which would concern him. He moved to the front and repeated the process. "Lungs sound clear. Wish you came to me and let me check this sooner. With swelling and bruising like this must hurt like a bitch when you inhale and exhale."

Clay shrugged.

"What the hell were you doing going jogging in this condition?" Brock admonished.

Lifting his eyes, he met Brock's gaze. "Completed a mission like this, didn't I?"

Brock nodded, but said, "Beside the point. We all know adrenaline kicks in and covers our pain in the field. But yesterday you would've been feeling the full effects."

Shifting his gaze to Ray, who leaned against his dresser, Clay said, "Tried to get the grisly images of Adam out of my head. Ghostly visions of him running for the guy with the s-vest replay on a constant loop, haunting my every moment. If I hadn't been the weak link, slowed us down, we wouldn't have been there when the suicide bomber rushed at us. Adam would be alive."

Ray nodded, listening this time. "So, you believe you getting shot is something you could've prevented?"

Clay gave a nod but hissed as Trent used gauze soaked in antiseptic to wash out one of the gashes on his back.

"How?" Ray asked.

Jason remained quiet, allowing Ray and the others to guide Clay through the process of dissecting the moves the team made since he was not with them.

"Should've maintained better cover," Clay answered.

Sonny harrumphed before saying, "Not much choice. They set the sniper trap in a perfect location. We would still be pinned down if you and Ray had not taken the risk to find a position to take out the damned sniper. Could've been Ray who was hit."

"But it wasn't. I gave him a target," Clay bit back.

"Deliberately?" Trent pressed on one of the deeper gouges eliciting a slight groan from Clay as he cleaned the wound.

Twisting his head, Clay gaped at Trent. "No."

Ray took over again. "After you were shot, I guess you decided to purposefully slow us down by not breathing, right?"

Whipping his head back to Ray at his asinine question, Clay started to answer, but Brock's remark had him turning to peer at him.

"Clay must've also ensured we would run across the next set of tangos knowing they would have a guy in an s-vest waiting to take us all out," Brock added his absurd comment.

"Don't forget the kid made sure Adam ran out of ammo at that exact moment and prevented him from reloading in time to shoot the bastard running at us," Sonny further expanded the ridiculous concept.

Clay could only gawp at his brothers.

Ray pushed off the dresser, intending to shake Jason out of his guilt-trip too. "Actually, this is all Jason's fault. If he had been there, he could've prevented all your actions."

"NOW WAIT A MINUTE! THIS IS NOT JASON'S FAULT. HE WASN'T THERE. HE WAS WHERE HE NEEDED TO BE. DON'T YOU DARE LAY THIS AT HIS FEET," Clay yelled and glared at Ray.

Jason sighed finally accepting Adam's death was not on him. _Damn Ray and his methods._ He squeezed Clay's shoulder as he spoke. "Calm down. What Ray is trying to get you to see is this is no more your fault than mine. The team encountered unpredictable events in a volatile atmosphere. You completed your initial mission and were sent on a follow-on one in a dangerous and chaotic environment.

"You did as you were trained. Shit happens. We can't foresee every possible outcome. The second force you came across while patrolling to the university would've likely been there regardless of when you arrived … same with the s-vest. Hizbul Mujahideen were set on wreaking havoc and killing anyone trying to regain order."

Capturing Clay's gaze, noting the pain, Jason held them for a moment of silence before saying, "Adam's death is not your fault and it is not mine either. A good man, an excellent SEAL, died because he was doing what he was trained to do. We will honor Adam's sacrifice. In the worst of conditions, the legacy of my teammates steadies my resolve and silently guides my every deed."

Clay swallowed the lump of emotion growing in his throat. He fought against the tears not wanting to shed them in front of the guys as everyone's words sank in.

Jason pulled Clay to him and wrapped an arm around his back. His eyes met with Ray's and a silent conversation occurred.

Ray motioned to the others to exit the room and as the last one out, he shut the door, with one glance back. He noted Spenser's shoulders shaking as he released his pent-up emotions.

In the living room, the men of Bravo went into action. Trent called Stella. They wanted Stella here because they would not allow Clay to push her away … she was a keeper. Also, she needed to learn how to help Clay through grief, because in their line of work, death of a teammate was a reality and he would need her in the future.

Sonny contacted Davis, explained the state of Clay's empty fridge, and left the grocery shopping in her hands. He called the local pizza place next … the kid needed something to eat.

Brock called his wife and requested she bring over Cerberus. His dog had a connection with Clay and offered him comfort the kid wouldn't accept from them.

On the phone with Blackburn, Ray explained Bravo team needed to be out of rotation for another week. When asked why, he was honest and said they all needed to get their heads screwed on right after Adam's loss. The lieutenant commander understood and agreed.

Twenty minutes later, Stella arrived and she peered at the men as she sucked in a breath. "What do I do?"

"Go in the bedroom and take over for Jason. Just be there for him. Don't push him to talk or explain," Ray instructed.

Stella nodded and she took hesitant steps to the door. Upon opening, she met Jason's eyes and noted the glistening of unshed tears in them as he held Clay. She quietly padded to the bed and stood next to Jason.

Releasing Clay, who had stopped crying and only held on, Jason said, "Someone you need is here." He rose and Stella slipped into his spot.

Clay's red-rimmed eyes stared at Stella. He had so much to apologize for … he had been angry and mean to her when he arrived home when all she wanted to do was help him. "I'm sorry—"

Stella withheld her gasp upon glimpsing his torso as she put a finger over his lips. "Shhh." She pulled him to her, putting his head in the crook of her shoulder. "Nothing to be sorry for. I'm here for you." Her fingers gently ghosted over his back as his arms encircled her waist.

Jason stepped out of the room, softly closing the door behind him. His longing for Alana increased. The love of a good woman soothed invisible wounds, helped diminish the gloom and grim images they carried, kept ghosts at bay, and eased the pain … much like a guardian angel.

Fifteen minutes later, now dressed in black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt, Clay opened the bedroom door and found the guys lounging in his apartment munching on pizza and drinking beer. He noted the occupants now included Davis, Blackburn, Ellis, Cerberus, Derek, and Kairos.

Stella grasped Clay's hand and smiled. "Pizza smells wonderful." She drew him out into the main room.

Sonny stood and quipped, "Saved a place for you, Princess Grace."

"Grace?" Clay asked perplexed by the new name.

Chuckling, Sonny said, "Figured it fits since you gracefully surfed down a hill and gouged your back."

Clay groaned. _Why didn't I keep my mouth shut about the hill?_

Davis held out a plate filled with pizza to Clay. "Don't mind him. He's on his third beer."

Clay took the plate and sat in the spot Sonny vacated as Stella went to the kitchen. He appreciated Sonny treating him no different, though he knew they all witnessed him breaking down in Jason's arms. The intensity of his guilt abated drastically and he now accepted he was not the cause of Adam's demise, although the grief still lingered … a shared grief they all felt for the loss of a brother.

He took a bite of pizza then ripped off a piece for Cerberus who came and sat at his feet. The conversation flying around was normal as if they were hanging out at the bar or at a picnic, which helped ground Clay more than sympathetic words.

Stella gasped when she spied the filled fridge. They had been staying at her place before the mission, and she knew it was empty and Clay wouldn't bother grocery shopping … one reason she knew he had not been eating. She peered at Davis. "How much do I owe you?"

Lisa shook her head. "Nothing. We're family. We take care of one another. Thank you for kicking the guys' asses into gear."

Stella chuckled. "Not exactly where I wanted to kick them … the groin was my intended target."

Lisa busted out in a gut laugh. "I like you, Stella. You're good for Clay."

"He's good for me too." As they exited the kitchen Stella heard Sonny say, "So have you heard the one about a goat, a gremlin, a gibbon, and a goblin going into a bar?" She turned to Davis and grimaced as Sonny continued with the gross joke.

Lisa patted Stella's shoulder. "Sonny's an acquired taste. He grows on you."

Stella snickered, "Like gangrene."

"Exactly." Davis grinned. "But he has a heart of gold. He and everyone else on the team will ensure Clay gets through this."

"I can see that." Stella took the beer she grabbed for Clay and sat beside him when Brock offered her the spot. She noted Cerberus remained glued to Clay, laying his head on Clay's knee. When Clay began to absently scratch the dog behind the ear, Stella grinned. With the help of his chosen family, Clay would cope with his grief, shed his guilt, and be mission ready soon.

.

* * *

 **AN:** Short story I know ... I thought about doing a mission afterward, but this seemed like a good stopping point. This is more of an emotional whump story with brothers coming to his rescue. Physical whump coming up in the next one. Let me know what you thought ... love knowing what you liked so I can do more of it in future stories.

 _Question for anyone who might know the answer ... Why did they change from TOC_ to _HAVOC and what the devil does HAVOC stand for?_

H and I suggestions welcome. Contributors for G are ...

\- Gang from Shellymae88  
\- Gangrene from Rachel Graceland  
\- Garbage from Lunary, NetMyne01  
\- Garlic from Ildeira  
\- Gash from Guest, Juniper, OneChicagoPD, Poolie  
\- Gauze from NetMyne01, Poolie  
\- Gentle from NetMyne01, Poolie  
\- Ghost from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Gibbon from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Glimpse/glimpsing from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Glitter from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Glue from NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Goat from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Goblin from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Gold from Lunary, Rachel Graceland, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Gone from OneChicagoPD, Shellymae88  
\- Gore from Shellymae88  
\- Gouge/gouging from Chgrgal, Rachel Graceland  
\- Grabbed from AeroWright, Juniper, Poolie  
\- Grace from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Grapes from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Grasp from OneChicagoPD  
\- Grave/graveyard/gravesite from Juniper, Lunary, NetMyne01, OneChicagoPD, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Gravel from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Great from Lunary  
\- Green from Lunary, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Green team from OneChicagoPD  
\- Gremlin from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Grief/grieving from OneChicagoPD, Shellymae88  
\- Grim from Shellymae88  
\- Grimace from Shellymae88  
\- Grin from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Grip from Shellymae88  
\- Grisley from Shellymae88  
\- Groin from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Gross from Lunary, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Ground from Shellymae88, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Guardian from Lunary  
\- Guide from Juniper  
\- Guilt from Poolie  
\- Gut/guts from floopdeedoopdee, Guest, Lunary  
\- Guzzle/guzzled from Victoria-Annxx


	8. Heroics and Heartache

**Heroics and Heartache**

* * *

 _ **Outskirts of Hércules, Mexico – Near Graveyard**_

"Holy shit!" Clay jumped out of the Humvee and ran like hell away from the vehicle, diving over a half-wall of the old cemetery, curling into a protective ball after he scurried for cover behind a massive headstone. The resounding boom and flying debris came raining down on his position when the RPG hit its target and made mincemeat of their only remaining means of transportation out of this hellhole.

* * *

 _ **Dilapidated House**_

"Six, status!" Jason shouted as a ball of flame rolled out of the destroyed Humvee. _Damn, I shouldn't have sent the kid._ "Bravo Six, do you copy?"

Heavy gunfire erupted again as the hostiles renewed their assault. Pinned down, outgunned, outnumbered, low on ammo, no ISR overhead, comms with Havoc down, no quick response force in place to come to save their asses, and forty miles from the planned exfil location, Bravo team was in a world of hurt.

Ten minutes ago, Jason hesitantly agreed to Spenser's suggestion to make a hasty dash for the only vehicle which survived the initial onslaught, while the rest of them laid down cover fire as a diversion. The kid made it and started to drive towards them, but now, with the last one blown up, his team's options for exfil … and survival were limited.

Jason peeked out the side of a window, hoping to glimpse Clay, unsure if the kid received Ray's warning about the RPG and was able to exit before it exploded. "Six, respond," Jason demanded, his voice rising along with his fear the brave kid died.

"Come on, Kid, answer Boss," Sonny muttered from his position on the second story window, also searching for any sign of life. He hated handsome boy's idea, but no one came up with a better one, and the kid was the fastest runner of the team, possessing supersonic speed like Sonic the Hedgehog.

"I see movement …" Ray adjusted his scope as he lay flat on the tile roof, "the cemetery. He's alive, but he is now cut off from us."

"Damn!" Jason hammered the plaster wall with his fist, causing dust from the defunct house to billow around him.

"Any visible injuries?" Trent asked as his gaze met Brock's, both hacked off at their situation and the fact Spenser would now be on his own. The odds of him surviving dropped considerably given the number of hostiles they were facing.

"Unable to tell. He's hunkered down on hallowed ground. The explosion might've covered his escape. Don't think Herrera's men have seen him." Ray sent up a silent prayer to Heaven that remained the case. The thought of Clay being taken hostage turned his stomach. The drug cartel would torture the kid just for the fun of it because they had been making inroads into locating Doza.

* * *

 _ **Graveyard**_

His chest heaving, attempting to slow the thudding of his heartbeat and heavy breathing, Clay shifted in his hiding place as the last of the metal hail fell around him. _Too damned close. Damned glad Ray gave me a heads up. Shit! What are we going to do now?_

Glancing around the mining town's burial ground, Clay had little cover and would be located in short order if he couldn't figure out someplace better to hide. His eyes stopped on a stone grave marker for Hector del Pozo. He translated the saying below the name. _I made some good decisions and some bad ones … I really went in the hole with this one._

Clay's face morphed into a wry smile as he chuckled. "I'm right there with you, Hector. But at least I'm not in the hole yet. And if I can help it, I'll avoid it for many a year."

He keyed his headset, hoping Bravo could hear him even though he could no longer hear them … something he recognized because Jason would've been demanding status from him by now and all he heard was static on his end. "Bravo One, Bravo Six here. Still in possession of all my parts. Not receiving you … hope you have good copy. Gonna find a way back to you if I can."

Moving to his knees, Clay felt a stab of pain in his right hip. His eyes darted down and found a thin metal shard poking out of his pants. "Well, shit." He prodded the area and didn't think the metal penetrated too deep. He yanked it out and pressed a hand to his hip to staunch the bleeding.

* * *

 _ **Dilapidated House**_

"We can't leave him hanging out there alone," Sonny huffed as he wiped the dripping sweat from his forehead. Wearing full tactical gear in ninety-five-degree weather was a bitch.

"If we go out there, our asses are toast before we get even halfway to him," Ray spoke the hard truth. As much as he wanted to rescue Spenser, them all ending up dead in an attempt would be fruitless.

"Bravo Six, do you copy?" Jason paced, hating the fact he had no options. "Bravo One to Havoc base," he tried again. If they could reach Blackburn and get some support, there might be a chance of getting out of this alive. In the back of his mind, the faces of Emma and Mikey played on a loop … he must find a way out of this, or his kids would be orphans.

Jason blew out a breath. "Options … anyone got any ideas?" The silence meeting his request further hollowed Jason's heart.

"I say we go out in a hail of glory and take out as many of those sons of bitches on our way out," Sonny stated.

Brock shook his head. There's gotta a be a way. Something we haven't thought of yet."

"Hey, hey … the kid is moving. What the hell?" Ray couldn't believe his eyes.

* * *

 _ **Graveyard**_

As Herrera and his men stopped their vehicles near the cemetery, Clay's mind came up with a possible solution to save his brothers when a truck halted over a huge pothole. _Stella is right … this is an eventuality … but at least I can protect my team and give them a fighting chance to get out of this alive. Jason's and Ray's kids need their fathers … no one needs me._

When their HVT, Herrera, exited the truck, gloating over killing the half-witted marine who tried to drive the Humvee, Clay took offense at being called a half-wit. His original plan, though half-crazy was the only option they possessed and would've worked if they hadn't had an RPG. But on a positive note, Herrera believed him dead and therefore wouldn't be expecting a rear assault.

When Herrera began ordering his men to move forward to take out the rest of the Mexican marines who dare to attempt to capture him, Clay ignored the pain in his hip, kept low behind headstones, and maneuvered himself to the rear of Herrera's vehicle. Reaching the hedge near the end of the wall close to his desired location, Clay checked his last mag. _Almost out. Every shot must count._

Dropping to his belly, Clay slithered under Herrera's truck and crawled to the front, lowering himself in the hole which would afford him a little protection. He almost laughed as Hector's headstone came to mind. _I really went in the hole with this one. Hope this is a good decision._

Clay sighted one of the hostiles and planned his order, leaving Herrera for last, hoping Bravo would be able to grab him alive and get the intel needed to bring Doza's organization down. Clay figured he could take out half before they zeroed in on his position and maybe a few more before a hailstorm of bullets came his way. That would draw their attention away from the house his teammates were in, and they would be able to handle the remainder.

He drew a deep breath, then caressed the trigger between heartbeats. _One down._ Herrera's henchmen started dropping like flies as Clay targeted one after another, shooting as fast as possible. The men appeared confused at first when their cohorts crumpled to the ground like puppets with their strings cut. He dispatched sixteen to hell before they figured out where the shots were coming from.

As predicted, bullets riddled his location. Clay dropped his head, hoping his helmet and the depression in the dirt road would protect him … he couldn't move from his place, or he would end up so full of holes he would become a human strainer. Hot anti-freeze and water poured down on him as the radiator was hit with a barrage of rounds.

Over the next few minutes, gunfire reduced in intensity, then stopped altogether. Clay remained still, wondering if it was a ploy to get him to lift himself and give them a target. _Not in this lifetime … I might be headstrong, but I'm not foolish and I don't have a death wish._ Boots crunching on the gravel alerted Clay to several people approaching. He swallowed hard not relishing the idea of becoming a hostage, but at least his brothers now had half a chance to survive.

As his team maintained watch, Jason took a knee at the front of the truck Ray said the kid crawled under. His heart in his throat, fearing the worst when the kid didn't move … believing no one could survive the hellacious firestorm unleashed in his direction, Jason said, "Clay. Clay."

At the sound of Hayes' voice so close, Clay almost thought he was hallucinating. Raising his head, Clay's gaze met Jason's and detected relief.

"You get the rest?" Clay asked at the same time Jason asked, "Are you hurt?" Jason said, "Yes," as Clay said, "No harm."

Clay wiggled out from underneath and spotted Brock putting a black hood over their HVT's head after Sonny zip-tied the head honcho's hands behind his back.

"Damned gutsy move," Ray said as he looked over the kid.

"What the hell possessed you to do something so half-cocked? You could've been killed. Surprised you're not littered with holes," Jason barked, both pissed off and astonished by Clay's selfless and heroic action to aid them.

Pulling himself up holding onto the bumper, then putting most his weight on his left leg, his right hip aching something fierce now, Clay met Jason head-on. "Hector gave me the idea. Any of you would've done the same."

"Who the hell is Hector?" Sonny asked.

"A guy in the graveyard." Clay unlatched his helmet, took it off, and wiped the sweat and dust … which turned into mud … from his forehead with his sleeve.

Trent stepped forward, his eyes scanning the kid, not missing the blood on Clay's pants and the way he held himself on one leg, but his main worry was a concussion. "Clay, there isn't anyone else in the cemetery … at least alive."

"Teflon boy is seeing ghosts in a haunted boneyard," Sonny quipped, surprised the kid was alive after his hairbrained stunt.

Clay chuckled. "Not quite." He told him about the words on the headstone as he settled the helmet back in place. "Can we get out here now?"

Brock hopped into the cab of one of the trucks and turned the ignition. "This one isn't shot to hell. Should get us outta here."

Clay took a step and winced. Trent was at his side in seconds flat. "No harm my ass. What's wrong with the leg?"

"Only a little piece of shrapnel. Nothing big," Clay responded.

"I'll be the judge of that. Put him in the bed, and I'll check him out as we drive," Trent instructed.

Clay attempted to move on his own, but Jason and Sonny both stepped on either side of him and grabbed his arms, swinging them over their shoulders and lifting him off the ground. "Christ, I can walk. Put me down."

"Humor us, Kid." Jason started moving.

None of Bravo spotted the man hiding in the nearby house observing the whole scene and taking photos with his phone. He slunk back into the recesses, dialed, and whispered rapid-fire Spanish. Hanging up a sneer came to his face as he texted the pictures. Doza would reward him well for this information.

* * *

 _ **Truck Heading to Exfil Location**_

Trent cut an opening in Clay's uniform, examined the wound, and grinned up at Jason. "Yeah, minor. Teflon boy is an apt name. Just need to clean it out and bandage it for now … I'll stitch it once we're not bouncing all over hell and creation and we aren't eating dust."

Jason peered at Clay. "One helluva move. Saved our asses." He handed a water bottle over to him. "We owe you a case of beer."

"Thinking this warrants a bottle of Tequila," Clay cockily responded as he lay on his side on the truck's bed. His position a tad uncomfortable with all the bumps in the road, but Clay grinned and accepted the water. The warm liquid welcome to his parched throat. The excessive heat of the desert caused him to sweat a lot, and he needed to replenish. Once Trent finished applying a dressing, Clay rolled to his butt and scooted his back against the side.

"Whatever you want, Bam Bam … I'm buying the first round," Sonny said as he stood in the bed, peering over the cab, his gun at the ready should they encounter any more of Herrera's men on this dusty road in the middle of nowhere. Their infil via helicopter forty miles from the mining town was determined to keep their approach under wraps and would be where they would exfil too.

They rode in silence for quite some time, before Jason took off his helmet and swiped a filthy hand across his forehead to stop the sweat from dripping into his eyes. The breeze afforded by being in the back of the truck helped cool him somewhat, though the air remained hot. He leaned forward to yell to Brock, "How far out are we?"

"About twenty miles," Brock hollered back, but his eyes landed on the gas gauge. "Fuck, don't think we're gonna make it all the way back … this was full, but now it's empty." His words were prophetic as the engine died and they rolled to a stop after some distance.

Ray hopped out of the cab, pulling their HVT with him, and peered at the vehicle's side. "Couple of holes here. Probably hit the tank. Guess we're hoofing it the rest of the way."

Clay didn't look forward to hiking, his hip hurt and he was hot, but he would suck it up like the entire team … they were all dealing with the searing heat of the noonday sun. He scooted to the edge after Trent lowered the tailgate for him.

"Too bad we can't round us up a few horses," Sonny said as he jumped to the ground and focused on Clay. "Hercules' Hero ain't gonna like hiking with that sore hip."

"Riding a horse wouldn't be any fun for him either … and he would be saddle sore to boot," Trent chimed in.

"I'm good." Clay put weight on his right leg to prove to them he was fine. He refused to be the weakest link again. "I'll take point."

Jason nodded but turned an eye on Sonny, sending a silent message to him to stick close to the kid. He received a slight incline of Quinn's head acknowledging the order before Sonny moved out behind Clay.

Pushed forward, Herrera complained, "Unmask me … I can't breathe under this hood."

"Rather you didn't breathe at all," Sonny muttered as he passed the HVT.

"You are American's … why are you dressed as Marina's?" Herrera asked as he stumbled along when someone gripped his arm and pulled him forward.

Ray held onto the Herrera but ignored him. They needed to keep him in the dark, although traipsing through the desert with him like this would be no fun for any of them.

"I need air," Herrera complained.

Jason halted Ray and pulled out the scissors from the front of his vest. "Hold him still." He cut a slit near the mouth.

"I can't see. Take this off now," Herrera protested.

"Shut up, or I'll be happy to hogtie your sorry ass and drag you through the fucking desert," Sonny threatened.

Jason grinned when Herrera became quiet. He started moving again, falling in behind Sonny and was followed by Ray with their target, Brock, and Trent bringing up the rear.

* * *

 _ **Hiking to Exfil**_

The summer sun beat down on the men, no one immune to the effects of the blistering heat. After two miles, Jason relented with Herrera and removed the hood as the man stumbled, realizing their success could turn into failure if the target died of heat stroke en route. Not an outcome he wanted after Clay's heroic efforts which turned the day around for them.

As Cerberus flagged, his paws sore from the scorching ground, Brock took a knee, bent over slightly, and whistled. His dog gave him soulful eyes of thanks as he happily hopped up on Brock's back and positioned himself over Brock's shoulder.

Herrera gaped at the move. "You carry the dog. Why?"

Arching a brow, Brock said, "He's not wearing boots."

"Stupid, he's only a dog." Herrera couldn't believe the man would take on the added burden of a mere animal.

Brock bristled at the comment, as did everyone, but Sonny, as usual, was the one to remark, "How about I remove your shoes and see how long you last before your feet are blistered and raw."

Herrera moved away from the angry man, half-believing he would follow through, which caused Clay to grin despite feeling like crap. His hip ached, his lips and throat were parched, and he had ceased sweating some time ago. His face was sunburned … he could feel the heat radiating off it and wished for a breeze, even a hot one to cool him down.

"Havoc, do you copy?" Jason tried the comms again to no avail. His men covered a little over half the distance to exfil and were facing another five miles because they decided to go off-road and take a more direct path to the exfil location. Part of Jason's reasoning was the fact they were out of water, and he recognized signs of dehydration in all of them.

Trent was the first one to exhibit symptoms of heat fatigue. Their medic stopped a few miles back as he experienced muscle spasms and cramping in his hamstrings. Jason insisted Trent drink the last of the water with the electrolyte mix … which Trent reluctantly did.

At the moment, Jason brought up the rear, keeping an eye on all of them as they hiked up the hillside. His headache throbbed with each step, and he suspected the others were experiencing one too based on them rubbing their temples occasionally. But each one trudged on … wanting to complete this horrible mission and get the hell out of this harsh and unrelenting habitat before any of them fell victim to hyperthermia.

Still taking the lead, refusing to show his fatigue, understanding they all felt crappy, Clay crested the hill. He blinked several times … trying to clear the hallucination presented to him. He laughed as the huge, brown horse remained. "Hey, Texas, think we might be able to round him up?" Clay called over his shoulder to Sonny.

Sonny joined Clay at the top. "Well, boy howdy, ain't he a be-u-te-ful sight. Here, cover me," Sonny slipped his assault rifle off and handed it to Clay before moving forward at a slow pace and whispering to the horse.

The rest of Bravo finished slogging up the hillside and halted, watching in awe as Sonny sweet-talked a stallion, attempting to gain its trust.

Jason shook his head. "The damned thing is wild. We can't ride it. Quit horsing around."

"Now hold your horses … give me a moment. I'll have you know I got a way with horses," Sonny shot back.

"Careful, they're not like the women at the strip clubs, you're gonna get kicked in the head," Ray snickered.

"And they don't respond to dollars tucked into their g-strings," Brock added as he let Cerb down while they rested a moment.

"You fail to grasp the obvious … I catch him, I can ride him to the helo, and we get outta here faster," Sonny replied, concentrating on moving closer.

Clay scanned the horizon for hostiles as Sonny continued his hijinks and the others hassled the Texan as they all took a short break in the shade. Clay took several steps, intending to stand in the shadow of a mesquite tree but lost his balance as a wave of dizziness hit him. Staggering a few paces as his vision blurred and heart rate increased, his world folded inward and he collapsed.

Catching movement in his periphery, Jason started running as the kid went down. Trent followed as did Brock. Ray maintained watch on their HVT as he called out, "Forget the damned horse, Six is down."

Sonny whipped around and rushed towards the group kneeling around Clay ripping off the kid's helmet and gear.

"I shouldn't have finished the water. The kid needed it more," Trent groused as he helped Jason remove the tactical vest while Brock moved to cradle the kid's head on his thighs.

"He's not sweating," Brock said. "His hair is dry … should be dripping buckets like us."

Trent touched the hot, dry, red, skin. The heat radiating off Clay was significant. He pulled out his thermometer and stuck it in Clay's ear. Though not standard equipment, Trent always carried extra gear in his kit given the propensity of the kid ending up hurt or ill. "Hyperthermia … more than heat exhaustion … one-o-four point six … we're looking at full-blown heat stroke. I gotta cool him down fast."

He dug in his bag and tossed cold packs to Brock, Jason, and Sonny, then started unbuckling Clay's belt. "Hold one on the back of his neck. Put the others in his armpits." Unbuttoning Clay's pants, Trent never hesitated as he yanked them down to the kid's knees, activated two of the packs, and placed them on Clay's groin.

After lifting Clay's shirt and shoving one in his pit, Jason peered at Trent. "How long?"

"You mean before organ failure or seizure?" Trent went back to his supplies searching for anything to use to cool the kid, wishing like hell he had saline, but his rucksack took several bullets, and the bags had been pierced while they took cover in the house back in Hercules. "Don't know."

"We need to fan him." Brock put Clay's head on his thighs again to hold the cold pack in place as he waved his hands in front of Clay's face … ineffective but all he could do.

Sonny stood after putting the last chill pack they had in Clay's other armpit. He strode to the nearest mesquite, broke off a branch, returned, and began fanning the kid. But as he did so, his eyes scanned for the horse. It grazed only a little way from them … fortunately, it hadn't spooked and run off.

What none of the other guys realized is the horse was not wild. The stallion was shoed and bore the marks of wearing a bit … the animal had a harsh owner … but Sonny was certain it had been ridden. "Boss, I'm going after that horse. The kid needs medical care we can't give him here." When Jason started to object, Sonny added, "It's been tamed, wearing horseshoes. I've ridden bareback before."

Jason nodded, rose, and put out his hand for the branch. "Okay, try. Don't get yourself killed being thrown or trampled."

"Copy." Sonny moved off to wrangle a horse … the kid needed them to save his ass this time, and he would do all in his power to do just that. After fashioning a simple hackamore and reins from the rope in his pack, using all his horse whispering skills, Sonny approached the beautiful beast.

"Okay, paw your hoof, but stay still, Brown Beauty. You and me … we're gonna be friends." Sonny continued to croon and managed to put on his makeshift headgear. Gaining hold of its mane, he swung himself up and grinned when the stallion held still.

"Okay, Beauty. I got a little brother to save and need you to run like the wind." His heels pressed the haunches, and the horse took off as Sonny yelled, "Yeehaw," and spurred the godsend into a gallop.

Jason laughed. "My God, he did it."

"We're gonna owe him a case of beer." Ray grinned.

"He gets to the helo and brings help in time for the kid, I'll buy him an entire pallet." Trent took Clay's temperature again, it hadn't decreased but thankfully had not increased. He prayed help came in time to save Spenser. It would suck to tell Stella that he failed to keep a brother alive because he drank the last of the water and let his kit get shot to hell.

* * *

 _ **Hospital – Hallway**_

Blackburn strode down the hall to waiting area accompanied by Davis, Ellis, Colonel Martinez, and Lopez. Eric's haggard expression bespoke the tension which enveloped Havoc base ever since they lost contact with Bravo right as the shit hit the fan in Hércules. The hours of waiting, being denied the ability to send in a QRT to assist his men, and worrying if they all died took a toll on him.

Although he knew Spencer was in need of medical attention, the helo landed at the local hospital before taking Herrera to the Mexican Marine Compound, and he didn't know about the state of the other members of Bravo or the details of what occurred. Though in Eric's mind debrief took second place to the health and welfare of his best team.

"Jason," Eric called out as he spotted Hayes leaning against the wall. The master chief appeared flushed as did the rest of the men … sunburns all around, well, except for Ray … and Trent who was not present. Eric would hazard to guess the team's unofficial medic stayed with Clay.

Shifting his eyes from the door leading into the emergency treatment area to Blackburn, Jason took another sip of Gatorade. They all needed to rehydrate, so the doctors supplied them with bottles of water and Gatorade to replenish the lost fluids. Luckily the doctor assigned to Spenser spoke English, though, unluckily, everyone except Trent had been kicked out of the tiny room so they could treat Clay. The only reason Jason stood here now was that they allowed Trent to remain.

"How is our guy?" Eric asked once he had Hayes' attention.

"No word yet. We got his temp to drop a few degrees in the helo. He came around for a bit but was incoherent."

Eric nodded. "And everyone else?"

"We're good."

His gaze shifting to Sonny, a grin broke out on Eric's face. "Heard you arrived at exfil on horseback."

Before Sonny could answer, Martinez chuckled. "Soldier and cowboy."

Sonny tipped his hat, grinned but didn't elaborate on his wild ride on a horse with no name. The conversation shifted to more important matters, arrangements for safeguarding the kid while he was the hospital.

As Eric had approached Jason, Davis moved directly to Brock and handed him a backpack. "I brought what you requested."

"Thanks." He unzipped Cerb's bag, pulled out two collapsible dishes. He filled one with kibble from a baggie and the other with water from his bottle.

Noticing the gauze wrapping Cerberus' paws, Lisa asked, "How bad?"

Brock put the bowls in reach of Cerb, so his dog didn't need to move. "Pads are a little torn up. He should be fine with a day or two rest." Brock sat on the floor next to Cerb wishing he had picked up the pup sooner, but the heat had zapped him too, and carrying the hair missile taxed his body more. Brock took another drink and closed his eyes as he let down his guard now that Cerb had something to eat.

Lisa took stock of the men and turned to Lopez. "The guys are hungry. Where is the cantina so I can grab them sandwiches?"

"I'll escort you," Lopez offered.

As Lisa hurried away, Mandy sat next to Ray, who's head leaned back with his eyes shut. "You got the target. Good work."

Cracking his eyes open, Ray peered at Ellis. His words came out soft given the unsecured location, "Intel was shit again. We would all be dead if not for Clay's innovative solution. The small contingent of men supposedly with Herrera turned out to be at least fifty strong. I'm not so sure we can trust Alfaro and the marines. Honestly, this feels like we were set up."

Mandy pursed her lips. Not much she could say … the information they ran with on this op appeared to be vetted, but everything blew up in their faces, and they almost lost all the guys when they became the hunted instead of the hunters in Hércules. Something which didn't sit well with her. "I hear you, but—"

"But nothing." Ray cut her off. "Yeah, we understand this package is important, and Doza killed a DEA agent. We will take him down. Step up your game, Ellis … you worried about Jason, well, I'm worried you are behaving a bit too much like Carlson." Ray stood and walked away, his headache still pounding.

Mandy sucked in a breath, the words slapping her in the face. It wasn't like Ray to attack, he was the peacemaker of the team … but then again, the number two's job was to protect number one, so Jason could watch out for the rest of the team. So Ray coming at her like a hyena made some sense. Whatever transpired in Hércules must've rattled Hayes and the others.

She decided her time would be better served if she returned to the compound and interrogated Herrera, so she approached Blackburn and Martinez to inform them she was returning. Martinez agreed to take her back when Eric voiced his concern about her going by herself since they were outside the wire. Mandy noted Jason didn't bother to speak with her, relieved not to have the hassle of dealing with a hot-headed Hayes. And there was no question Jason seethed and held her responsible based on the heated glare he sent her way.

After Mandy strolled away, Eric said, "This isn't her fault."

Jason eyed Eric. "Her slipshod intel almost killed my boys."

"Just saying, she's doing the best she can in this hamster wheel. Cut her some slack."

Jason's brows rose. "We operate on zero margin for error. This has the earmarks of a coordinated hit. We were supposed to be dead by now. We live because members of my team went above and beyond today."

Eric sighed. "Here is not the place to debrief. That can wait until later. Martinez's men will be guarding Clay. You all need to head back to the compound and get some rest." As soon as the words left his mouth, Eric realized the absurdity of them … Jason, nor any of the others would leave Clay alone in the hospital.

"Not leaving," Jason declared.

"Right. When Davis comes back, give her your gear, and she can take it back for you."

"Yeah, sure. Keeping our sidearms though."

"Agreed."

Trent popped his head out of the door. "Temp is going down. I'm gonna stay with him, but the doc said one other person can come in the treatment room."

Jason didn't even bother to consult his men before striding to the door. He needed to be close and ensure the kid received proper healthcare.

* * *

 _ **Hospital – Clay's room**_

After an extended stay in the ER, the doctor managed to lower Clay's temperature to within normal limits and relocated him to a room for continued observation. The semi-private room in which Clay had been moved to initially contained another man, but when all of Bravo crowded in and refused to leave, the floor nurse transferred the other patient across the hall. Now divested of their tactical gear, Davis having confiscated their weapons, helmets, and vests, the men lined up along one wall, sitting on the floor, and keeping vigil on Clay.

The room contained one chair, which was surprisingly plush and comfortable, but without a single word spoken, the entire team agreed Cerberus earned the spot. It was Cerb who alerted them as they approached Herrera's hacienda and saved their bacon. They had been able to take cover as the hailstorm of bullets headed their way. Brock sat nearest, and his hand rested on his sleeping dog's hip, gently caressing his fur.

Jason glanced at Brock. "Cerberus is gonna be okay."

"Yeah, I know, but I should've carried him sooner." Brock's gaze remained fixed on Cerb's bandaged paws.

"If you had, you would be in a bed next to the kid," Jason stated in a matter of fact tone.

"You don't know that," Brock countered.

"I do," Trent chimed in. "We would've lost either you or Clay because I didn't have enough cold packs to go around. As it is, we barely got the kid cooled enough he didn't go into seizures."

"When is he expected to wake?" Ray asked.

Trent shrugged. "His body went through a lot of stress. Could be today, or tomorrow. At least his temp is down to normal now."

Sonny shifted trying to find a comfortable position and failed, his butt sore as hell from his bareback horse ride.

Jason caught Sonny's movement and couldn't help the grin that came to his face. "Saddlesore?"

"No," Sonny groused.

Ray chuckled. "Can't be … Buffalo Bill didn't have a saddle."

The guys all snickered as Sonny grimaced, but Jason rose and strode for the door.

"Where are you going?" Brock asked.

Jason didn't answer and stepped out of the room. He walked down the hallway in search of a specific item, peering into each room as he moved. Finding what he required in the last room, he returned to Clay's and tossed two pillows at Sonny. "Here, sit on these."

Sonny stared at the pillows as if they were horned vipers. "I'm not getting soft. Don't need them. I'm fine without them."

"You refusing to do as ordered?" Jason crossed his arms and stared down at Quinn. Not often he had to pull rank on Quinn, but in this case, he would.

Shifting, lifting his aching backside off the ground, Sonny shoved the plastic covered pieces of foam underneath him, and as he lowered his full weight on them, he couldn't halt the sigh that eked out, which caused another round of snickering.

Clay cracked his eyes open. He had woken when Jason spoke to Brock about Cerb and heard Trent's comments too, but he wasn't sure he wanted to wake up completely. His head still pounded, and he had become the weakest link yet again. But when the guys started chuckling Clay had to know what they were teasing Sonny about.

The vision of the hardened and hot-tempered Texan sitting on pillows was humorous to Clay and brought out a grin and a chuckle which wasn't missed by a single one of his teammates. Jason reached him first because he was standing as the rest of the guys hurried to rise from the ground.

"Hey. Welcome back." Jason stood near the head of the bed.

"Where are we and how'd we get here?" Clay recognized he was in a hospital, but the location he didn't know.

"A Mexico City hospital. Sonny caught the horse, rode it to the helo, and they landed where you collapsed from heat stroke. How are you feeling?"

"Been better." Clay noted they all appeared sunburned … no one went unscathed. He also spied Sonny moving slow with an odd walk as he came towards his bed. He turned when Cerb whined. "Brock, Cerb can lay at the foot of my bed, and Wild Bill Hickok can sit in the soft chair." He grinned at Sonny and received a scowl when he said, "I think Davis might still have the blow-up donut ring you gave me when I got shot in the ass with an arrow."

Relieved as Clay joked around, a good indication of no lasting damage from the high body temperature he experienced, the guys all relaxed and chortled. When the laughter died down, Clay asked. "When can I get out of here?"

"Tomorrow is the earliest." Trent pointed to the IV. "You need to fill up before you are released."

"Can't I do that in my hammock?"

"Sorry, no. Do you want Davis to bring your laptop so you can contact Stella?" Ray entered the conversation, hoping to make Clay's time here less humdrum.

"Don't bother … no need to hassle with it."

The response confused four out of the five guys standing around Clay, but Sonny understood. He didn't feel it his place to share the kid was heartbroken since Stella broke up with him. Sonny moved to the chair, and Brock put Cerb at the foot of Clay's bed. "I'll hang out here tonight with the hipster. The rest of you can go back to headquarters."

Jason witnessed a flicker of emotion he didn't fully understand cross Clay's face. He assumed it might be due to feeling vulnerable after the events in Hércules and appreciated Sonny's offer, but he wouldn't be leaving Spenser either.

About to open his mouth to tell the remainder of his men to go back, his phone rang. Answering it, he spoke briefly before hanging up and addressing the room. "Blackburn indicated Herrera is talking and we might be spun up again tonight. He's sending transport for us." He eyed Clay, not comfortable leaving him here alone, not trusting the Martinez's hand-picked marines on guard duty. "Trent, Clay's coming with us. Make sure he has what is required."

Clay grinned. "Hot-damn." He flung the covers off him and stopped as soon as he noted the hospital gown. "I need clothes."

Sonny stifled a groan. The chair would've been more comfortable than his hammock.

Ray lifted a bag and tossed it to Clay. "Davis has you covered."

"What would we do without her?" Clay pulled out his jeans and scooted to the edge to put them on. His hip twinged, but he ignored the pain, not wanting to give Jason any reason to make him stay.

Watching the eagerness of the kid, Jason shook his head. Spenser disliked hospitals which didn't surprise him because they all hated them. "When we get back to the compound you are confined to your hammock. You won't be going on the op."

As Sonny rose and shuffled toward the door, Jason didn't miss the continued slow movements. "Sonny, you're grounded too."

The fact Sonny only answered, "Copy," informed the whole team he must hurt pretty bad.

After a quick consult with the haughty doctor and a lecture about leaving against medical advice, the guys as a group, with Brock carrying Cerb, headed down the hallway to the exit.

* * *

 _ **Mexican Marine Headquarters**_

As Clay exited the vehicle, he bumped his hip on the door and took one wobbly step before a hand gripped his elbow. Without having to look, he knew it was Sonny … the hand familiar after the months Quinn had stabilized him after his eardrums had ruptured. He didn't say thanks with words, their gazes met and both comprehended the silent thanks, and you're welcome.

He and Sonny headed to their bunks with Brock who would leave Cerberus with them before joining the rest in the temporary TOC. As he hobbled down the hall, Clay spotted Davis. "Thanks for the clothes."

Lisa halted, surprise evident on her face. "What are you doing here. Last I heard you wouldn't be let out until tomorrow." She moved forward and gave him a quick hug. "Though I'm happy to see you up and around. You gave us a bit of a heart attack when Jason related what you did in Hércules." She grinned, glad Hayes chose Spenser for Bravo team … he fit perfectly.

Sonny leaned on the wall. "Young Jedi here could probably use something to eat. His stomach wouldn't shut up on the way here."

Clay chuckled. "Does that make you Hans Solo?"

Relief washed through Lisa watching the happy-go-lucky banter between her guys. Though roughed up, a little rest and a lot of fluids would restore them. "How about huevos rancheros?"

"Sounds good."

"Do you want to come to the cantina?" Lisa asked.

"Can't … confined to my hammock according to Jason." Clay didn't mind, he wanted to lay down, exhausted from his short walk, and his hip ached.

"I'll bring them to you then. Might even be able to round up sopaipilla's with honey."

"I'm a bit hungry, make that two orders." Sonny's mouth watered at the thought of the fried pastry smothered in honey. At Lisa's arched brow, Sonny added a hasty, "Please."

"You got it, Hopalong Cassidy," Lisa smirked as she turned to go grab the items for her boys.

Forty minutes later, his hunger sated, Clay lay in his hammock, swinging slightly and closed his eyes. Thoughts of Stella intruded. It still hurt … her words rang in his head. _The more I love you, the harder this gets. You deserve someone who will embrace your life not resent it. Someone better than me. I love you, but I don't think I can be with you anymore._

His heart broke again and again. _She loves me, but she can't live with my life. Why did she tell me in the beginning she knew what she signed up for when she didn't? How can she just walk away if she is in love with me?_ With no answers, Clay drifted into an uneasy sleep, his shattered heart dreaming of the woman he loved who couldn't accept his life.

Sonny stiffly rose from the table ten minutes after he spied Clay's eyes close. His position afforded him the perfect view through the tear in the blue plastic, and he believed the kid finally nodded off. As he made his way to his bed, Davis entered.

Lisa stopped outside Clay's room and a sad smile formed. She turned to Sonny and asked, "Can I bring you any pain relievers?"

"Nah, I'm good. Nothing a night's sleep won't fix."

"Where are his photos of Stella? He always has at least one up in his quarters.

Sonny shrugged. "Maybe he didn't bring them this time. We did get spun up on the spur of the moment."

Something in Sonny's tone made her recall the conversion she had with Clay when he handed her the camera after Doza's bagman was gunned down in the strip club. "Is something going on with Stella and Clay?"

Sonny didn't answer.

She recalled the night Sonny brought Clay back drunk as a skunk. His hangover the next day had been horrendous and Jason none too pleased with either Clay or Sonny for getting hammered outside the wire given that day's events. Lisa drew the connections and said, "Stella dumped him, didn't she?"

"Night, Davis," Sonny said neither confirming or denying for her.

"Why? When?" Lisa followed Sonny to his cube. "Hey, talk to me. Why would she do that to him?"

Sonny turned and gazed at Lisa realizing she would hound him for an answer. Too wiped out to resist, he said, "Our life is not an easy one. Not everyone can hack waiting at home wondering if we will return. Alana left Jason for that reason. So did Trent's wife. Takes a hardy woman like Ray's Naima to withstand the constant worry. I'm withholding judgment for now.

"He's hurting, but you never know what might happen. The professor might wake up and realize she will never find a more honorable man who loves her with his whole heart. I hope for his sake, she does."

Sonny kicked off his boots and then sat in his hammock. "Don't let on I said anything. None of the other guys are aware, and I don't plan on telling them. He deserves privacy while working through his heartache."

"I won't say anything. Thanks for talking to me though. Night." Lisa pivoted and strode out of the men's quarters. While Sonny might not judge Stella, Lisa did. Anger rose in her … targeted at the hairbrained woman who would let someone as special as Clay go, thoroughly hacked-off now she told Clay that Stella was a keeper. _How dare she hurt one of my guys!_

Cerberus rose from his soft bed on the floor, gingerly padding on his sore paws to Clay's area. He sat and peered up at his boy sensing he needed comfort. In a well-honed and often practiced move, he leapt up, not disturbing the hammock too much. He found his favorite spot, laying his head on Clay's chest. His eyes shut when Clay's hand unconsciously moved to scratch behind his ears.

* * *

 _ **Five Days Later – Bar Outside the Wire**_

"Here's to the end of our beer hiatus!" Sonny grinned at Clay as he lifted his Corona and took a swig. For five, long days Trent refused to allow any of them to consume any alcohol after their stint of dehydration and heat exhaustion and Sonny had a hankering for beer which would be sated tonight.

Herrera's intel had netted one other Doza lead, but the man they brought in last night refused to spill the beans. With no additional targets and the night off, he and Clay went out to the local bar they went to previously. One reason, besides the need for a beer, was that he had orders from Jason to take the kid out and loosen his tongue. Their boss perceived Clay's hound dog expressions, but the kid clammed up, claiming to be fine and Jason wanted to understand if the events in Hercules messed with the kid's head.

Thankfully, Lisa kept her word to stay quiet, but she did go out of her way to ensure Clay got extra special care. The day after they returned, she brought Spenser whatever he wanted to eat, and set up his laptop so he could view a bunch of hilarious movies to pass the time he was confined to their hooch.

Once Trent gave Clay the all clear, the kid took to hanging out on the roof by himself which is what concerned Jason. Sonny didn't mind taking the kid on another bender, but he refused to reveal to Jason the real reason for Clay's quieter than normal mood. Though, he would take this opportunity to encourage Clay in the direction of coming clean with Jason before Hayes confronted him. Things would go much smoother.

"Huzzah!" Clay downed his shot of tequila and chased it with his ice-cold beer. He still couldn't get Stella off his brain, and if he didn't find a way to harden his heart, he would screw up his position on the team.

He realized the entire team noticed his demeanor change and he let Ray believe it was because he was now back to being Bravo Six. But that wasn't it and never would be. The team worked like a well-oiled machine with Hayes and Perry in the one and two spots. The op yesterday proved that to him. They brought in Castillo without a single hitch.

Clay decided to spend one last night drowning his sorrows and then tomorrow Stella would be in his past. He would move forward and never look back on what could've been … what he wished would've been. Tonight, he would drink himself under the table knowing Sonny would get him safely back to their hooch as he did the first time. Clay waved to the barkeep, "Two more tequilas."

The rate at which Clay drank as the night wore on concerned Sonny. But when the kid told him his plan … after consuming an astounding amount of tequila, Sonny decided the kid deserved to be numb for one night. Though he didn't believe for one second this would resolve the kid's heartache … all it would produce was a massive headache tomorrow. At least Hayes wouldn't ream Spenser for being drunk since he sent them out to do just that.

When the kid missed his mouth with the beer, Sonny determined Clay had enough and took the bottle from him. "Time for Goldilocks to be heading home. You've reached your limit, you're one hundred percent gonna puke up everything, and I don't want you hurling on me on the way back."

"Henpecking doesn't suit you," Clay slurred out.

"Well, now, son. If not me, then who?" Sonny stood and rounded the table. Clay didn't fight him when he slung the kid's arm over his shoulder and hoisted him off the stool. "Let's go, Peter Pan."

Staggering, Clay's head swam as he allowed Sonny to lead him out of the bar. They made it about fifty feet before he began to gag. He found himself on his knees in the gutter with Sonny holding his shoulders as he retched. The halibut tacos he consumed now as appealing as haggis.

As Sonny held the kid, he failed to notice the ten men approaching them. When they got close, and he spotted them it was too late. Five men attacked each one of them. As Sonny engaged them, his phone fell out of his pocket. His efforts halted when something hard whacked Sonny on the side of the head and his world went black.

Clay attempted to fight, his muddled mind aware Sonny and he were in a hazardous situation … but he was physically unable to fend off the men who put a bag over his head and bound his hands behind him. He was dragged and then lifted and tossed into a vehicle.

A thud beside him he assumed to be Sonny. Clay heaved again, but luckily, he had emptied the contents of his stomach already. As the vehicle began moving, Clay berated himself for getting shitfaced in hostile territory and allowing someone to get the drop on him and his brother. _Hayes is gonna be pissed at me … might kick me off the team … then I won't have them or Stella._

* * *

 _ **Mexican Marine Headquarters**_

Mandy ran up the stairs to the roof as fast as a category five hurricane, needing to find Hayes. Though they had been at odds because she questioned Jason's mission readiness, he proved to be on point regardless of where his head or heart might lie. He had been spot on to question her tenaciousness in getting Doza, but she was no Carlson … she cared about all the men of Bravo. Hence the reason she was sprinting to him.

Coming to a halt near the firepit, finding Jason, Ray, Brock, and Trent kicked back with beers in hand her gut twisted not finding Clay among them. "Where is Spenser?"

Jason's brow rose, noting the harried expression. "Why?"

"Dammit, where is he?" Mandy bit out again.

"What's got you so hot to trot?" Ray asked.

"Tell me he is in the compound." Mandy's eyes beseeched Jason's ignoring Ray's remark.

Jason stood. Mandy's manner indicated this was serious. "No, he isn't. He's at a local bar with Quinn."

"We have to go get him. Now!"

The other three rose after setting down their beverages.

"Ellis, what's going on?" Jason demanded.

"We were able to hack into Castillo's phone. We check his social media and found there is a hit out on Clay. There's a picture of him without his helmet which appears to have been taken in Hercules and has the hashtag which translates to Kill the Blond win Doza's favor."

"Shit!" Jason and the others raced for the stairwell.

They were met in the courtyard by Blackburn, Davis, Martinez, and Lopez who had their weapons and tactical vests. As they hastily donned them, Eric said. "We tried calling, but neither answered, so Davis pinged their phones and found two locations."

Jason clipped his vest. "They wouldn't split up unless forced apart. Where?"

Lisa turned the laptop so Jason could view the locations. Ray peered over Jason's shoulder and pointed to one. "That's near the bar they were going to."

Nodding Jason said, "We go to the second one. Most likely one of them lost their phone."

"It's Sonny's phone," Lisa inserted.

Colonel Martinez latched his helmet strap. "My men will check that spot on the off chance one of your men is still there."

Climbing into the driver's seat of one of the vehicles, Lopez said, "I'll drive Hayes' team … I know the fastest route."

The men all hopped in, doors slammed, and tires squealed as Lopez blared his horn to get cars to move out of his way.

* * *

 _ **Horizon Hotel - Roof**_

Sonny came around as he was dumped on the ground … or rooftop to be more accurate. His head pounded as he glanced around, searching for the kid. Spotting him lying a few feet away he wondered why Clay was hooded and he wasn't. Though, both of them had their hands bound behind them.

He wished he spoke Spanish to understand the men who freely talked. However, he didn't need translation when two of the men yanked Clay up and held him as another goon began to beat on him. As much as he wanted to yell out for them to stop, Sonny knew if he did so they would go harder on the kid. Their hosts … landed one hit after another to Clay's gut and didn't stop until another man sauntered onto the scene.

Sonny recognized Gonzales. _That's the bastard we let get away on the first mission here … Doza's main torturer. Well, fuck me running. How the hell did they single us out?_

As two men held Clay, Gonzales removed the hood and spoke in English, "I prefer to see my victim's faces … increases my pleasure."

Clay gasped for air, wanting to be sick again, his head swam, and he moved in and out of awareness from both excessive alcohol and lack of oxygen from trying to breathe through the heavy fabric. His first and only lucid thought was trying to locate Sonny, though he was in no shape to help him … let alone himself. He lifted his head and spotted Sonny across from him moments before a fist rammed into his face, whipping his head to the side.

Gonzales turned to Sonny and grinned. "You get a first-row seat to view what happens to someone who pisses off Doza. But don't worry, you'll be next." Gonzales inclined his head to the remaining men.

Sonny struggled to work his hands loose as each of Doza's henchmen took turns hammering the kid. Blood dripped from Clay's nose and mouth after several face strikes, but for the most part, they focused on his abdomen … the soft, vulnerable part of the anatomy. Every groan from Clay pierced Sonny's heart.

Mentally kicking himself for allowing the kid to drink so much, Sonny realized he should've cut him off sooner. He should've acquired the booze and gotten Spencer shitfaced within the safety of their compound. Now, he had to watch as they slowly killed his brother. He cringed when one of them held Spenser's head up by his hair and snapped several photos. Those would be going on the internet for sure. Though he was angry at Stella for breaking the kid's heart, he hoped to God, Stella never saw them.

Clay's head lolled to his chest when released, and Sonny wished the kid would pass out, but he didn't … the haunting scream which erupted from Clay when Gonzales swung a hammer at his left upper arm made it all too clear the kid felt all the pain inflicted.

"I'M GOING TO KILL EVERY ONE OF YOU FUCKING BASTARDS!" Sonny howled as Clay's eyes burst wide open and a strangled scream emitted as a huge hook impaled the kid just below the last rib on the right side. The whaling hook was attached to a pulley, and they began hoisting Clay up.

With the increased alcohol level serving as an anticoagulant, blood surged from the wound soaking Clay's shirt and jeans. Clay wanted nothing more than to black out … but fate was unkind, and he remained conscious. The excessive booze consumed worked as a pseudo anesthetic lessening the pain of the beating, but he felt every last ounce of this torture.

Gonzales laughed, getting his jollies from the horror-stricken face of the dark-haired soldier and the screams of the blond one. He took two more photos once they had the hooked one off the ground completely. "I say we hauled in quite a catch tonight. This will send the message you don't hassle Doza."

When one henchman began to strike him with a hockey stick, causing him to sway on the hook like a human piñata or a hog ready to be slaughtered, pure agony engulfed Clay. He tried not to cry out because every time he did, Gonzales laughed and Sonny recoiled as if experiencing his torture too. After ten strikes, Clay was no longer conscious of anything except excruciating, all-encompassing pain.

"Get the rope," Gonzales ordered.

Sonny's mouth went dry as one of the thugs brought a rope to Gonzales who then fashioned a noose. _Oh, Hell no! They're gonna hang him._ After renewing his efforts, the bindings loosened a bit … Sonny hoped he could get free in time to save Clay.

Gonzales slipped the noose around Clay's neck, and Clay's head lolled as the hemp cinched on his throat. Blood dribbled out of his mouth, down his chin and onto his t-shirt. As the hook was yanked out and he was held up by two hulking men who dragged him to the edge of the roof, Clay had a vague understanding of his coming fate.

Sonny broke free, surged to his feet, and rushed towards Clay … his only goal … save the kid … somehow.

"NOOOOOO!" ripped from Sonny as Clay was heaved off the roof. His world spun and lit up with bright lights and sonic booms as he dropped to his knees … he failed … his brother was dead.

* * *

 _ **Building Across from Horizon Hotel - Roof**_

Ray's panicked voice called out, "Go. Go. Go. They're gonna toss Six off the roof." He sighted Gonzales, but as soon as Clay began to fall, he sent up a prayer that his aim would be true as he squeezed off a round.

He held his breath for what seemed like hours, but was mere seconds, and only released it as Clay's body landed in a huge pile of mulch the hotel had out front for a horticulture project in progress.

Ray silently thanked God he severed the hanging rope with one shot before Clay's inert body took up the slack while in free-fall, preventing the kid's neck from being snapped, which would've killed him instantly. Unfortunately, despite the cushioned landing, Spenser would most likely suffer injuries falling from the height of the two-story building, but to Ray, injuries were preferable to certain death.

"Bravo Four, you're needed on the street … the kid is down there." He sighted the hotel roof again and began taking out hostiles.

* * *

 _ **Horizon Hotel - Roof**_

"Go, we got this covered," Jason ordered as Trent hesitated and the flashbangs filled the night air, creating a hectic scene on the roof as men scurried like hares looking for cover.

Trent took off running back down the stairwell. His heart racing, wondering if he would be able to save the kid this time. Ray's description of the kid hanging from the hook and being batted around sounded horrific. He wished they arrived sooner and could've prevented that … though he also wondered how the hell Clay ended up on ground level … that was one hellacious fall.

Jason and Brock didn't hold back as they unleashed hellfire on the men who harmed their brothers. Both spotted Sonny on his knees near the roof's edge … in apparent shock since the Texan didn't budge one inch as the hailstorm took place around him.

Though Mandy would be hacked off, Jason fired at Gonzales and took pleasure in the payback he meted out with a headshot. Though, part of him wanted to torture the son of a bitch in the same manner as he had Clay … or perhaps take a hacksaw and cut off every damned appendage first.

With four shooters, Brock, him, and Lopez on this roof, and Ray sniping from across the road, it didn't take long to bring down all eleven of Doza's henchmen. As Lopez maintained watch for them, Jason and Brock moved to Sonny who still knelt, staring at the short wall around the hotel's roof.

"Hey, buddy," Jason pitched his tone soft, noticing the faraway haziness of Sonny gaze and the slow oozing of the hematoma on the back of Sonny's skull. Blood soaked the back collar of Sonny's shirt so it must've been one helluva hard hit.

"He's gone. My fault. Should've kept the kid safe at the hooch. Let him drink too much, but he hurt so much he needed to drown out his heartache. Now …" Sonny's voice hitched with emotion as his eyes welled and he shifted his gaze to Jason.

"Gotta get him down. Can't leave him hanging there … not right … not right at all … too young … just a kid … I couldn't save him." Sonny rose on unsteady legs and started towards the edge in a fog. The kid had carved out a spot in his heart which was now hollow and empty. Clay's death hit him harder than Adam's.

"He's not hanging. He's on the ground. Trent's with him." Jason grasped Sonny's arm to steady him and redirected him towards the stairwell.

"What?" Sonny stared, not quite comprehending. He swayed and Brock moved in to help keep Sonny on his feet.

"Ray shot the rope. Clay fell."

"He dead?" Sonny questioned, recognizing they were two stories up based on the building across the street.

"Trent, status," Jason requested.

"Need medevac stat. He's likely got other injuries, but his gut wound is the priority. The kid is hemorrhaging, and I can't stop the flow … not clotting as it should. We're gonna lose him if help doesn't arrive within minutes." _Hold on, Kid … don't die on us … please._

As Ray raced down the stairs, he said, "Called it in. Helo two mics out."

Sonny stared at Jason, heartburn and his heart rate both increasing as he waited to hear if the kid lived.

"Alive and Trent is doing his best to keep him that way. Let's get downstairs, and you can ride in the helo with him … you need to be examined too." Jason guided Sonny, and when he faltered, both he and Brock swung Sonny's arms over their shoulders and assisted their wounded brother down the steps.

* * *

 _ **Hospital – Outside OR**_

Still wearing tactical gear and holding their weapons, Bravo team minus Ray and Sonny guarded the operating room. Jason hackles rose and he wouldn't take no for an answer when the staff attempted to make them leave. Hypervigilant, he refused to leave Clay to be guarded by anyone else. Blackburn fully supported his headstrong move, and so did Colonel Martinez.

Spotting Sonny, Ray, Lisa, and Eric down the hall, Jason breathed a sigh of relief. As they hit the bottom step in the hotel, Sonny had collapsed. Hyperventilating, bordering on hypoxic, after witnessing Clay fall, the shock to Sonny's system caused hypotension, his blood pressure plummeted to a dangerously low level. For the past three hours, Sonny had been in the emergency room, guarded by Ray, Eric, and Lisa, because Hayes refused to allow Quinn to be left open to another attack either.

"What's the word?" Jason asked as Ray came closer.

"Half a dozen stitches in his head and orders to rest for several days. They wanted to admit him to monitor his blood pressure, but Sonny will not heed the doctor's wishes," Ray said.

"Damn straight. I'm staying right the hell here." Directing his gaze to Trent, knowing he would give him the information in plain language rather than doctor speak, Sonny asked, "Any word on the kid yet."

Davis pulled over a chair and forced Sonny to sit, handed him an electrolyte replacement beverage, told him to drink, then tuned in to Trent who waited until Sonny was settled before speaking.

"Being impaled and hoisted on that long hook damaged his right upper quadrant. It penetrated his large intestine, and also caused a hepatic tear and intraperitoneal hemorrhaging."

The confused expressions reminded Trent to speak plainer. "Basically, the filthy hook tore a hole in his liver and caused massive internal bleeding. The risk of infection is quite high with a ruptured gut, especially hepatitis since god knows what was already on the hook plus anything additional it might have picked up, our innards aren't what you would call clean. They will need to monitor him closely."

Trent took a breath, letting the seriousness of Clay's condition sink in before he continued, "He sustained a clean fracture to his left humerus—"

"From the hammer or the fall?" Sonny asked.

"Hammer?" It was Trent's turn for a puzzled look.

"Yeah, that bastard Gonzales hit the kid's upper arm with a fucking hammer and laughed. Hell is too nice a place for that whoreson." Clay's cries of agony replayed in Sonny's head … sounds which would haunt his dreams for a very long time.

"Even Hell has standards Gonzales doesn't meet," Brock interjected wishing he had been the one to kill the son of a bitch.

Trent shook his head. "Not sure which caused the fracture. The head injury from hitting the ground is the one I'm most worried about. They can fix his gut and arm and tank him up on blood and antibiotics, but a two-story fall, even onto the softer mulch might leave him handicapped in one way or another. We won't know until after he wakes. With any luck, it will be only a concussion."

Davis drew in a breath. "Only …"

Sonny's head throbbed, but he responded, "Better than a snapped neck and death." When he listed to one side, Davis stopped him from falling out of the chair.

Raking a hand through his hair, Jason said, "You're staying here … in a bed in the same room as the kid. You might have a hard head, but one too many knocks and the alcohol you consumed means your grounded again.

Sonny only nodded. Being in Clay's room would be better than confined to the hooch and worrying about him. _Hell, who am I kidding, I'm worried to death the heroic kid won't come back from this round of injuries … and this is all my fault…_

 _._

 _... To be continued with AI-I_

* * *

 **AN:** Hope you enjoyed the extra-long story. It will be continued with AI-I, so don't worry about finding out what happens to Clay ... I promise more whump.

Suggestions for I and J welcome even though I have a decent idea of what AI-I will entail. Contributors for H are ...

\- Hail from Rachel Graceland  
\- Habitat from Megan Rachel  
\- Hack/hacker/hackers/hacked/hacking from Guest127, Jessiness5134, Juniper, Megan Rachel  
\- Hackles from Jessiness5134  
\- Hacksaw from Jessiness5134  
\- Haddock from Megan Rachel  
\- Haggis from Jessiness5134  
\- Hailstorm from Megan Rachel  
\- Hair from Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Half from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hall from Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hallow/hallowed from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hallucinate/Hallucinating from Liz, Poolie, Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Halt from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hammer/hammered from Jessiness5134, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hammock from IndyElora, Jessiness5134, Juniper, Lunary  
\- Hamster from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hamstring from Deanaholic1, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hand/hands from Jessiness5134, Liz, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Handsome from Liz  
\- Hang/hung/hanging from floopdeedoopdee, Juniper  
\- Happy from IndyElora, Jane, Megan Rachel  
\- Hard from Crazykids121, Lunary, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hardy from Crazykids121  
\- Hare from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Harm from Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Harsh from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hashtag from Megan Rachel  
\- Hassle from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hasty from HoneyPear  
\- Hat/hats from Lunary, Megan Rachel, Rachel Graceland  
\- Hate from Megan Rachel  
\- Haughty/haughtiness from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Haunt/haunted from Guest127, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Havoc from IndyElora, Princess Of The Kingdom, Shellymae88  
\- Hazard from Jessiness5134  
\- Hazardous from Shellymae88  
\- Head from Jessiness5134, Megan Rachel, Poolie, Princess Of The Kingdom, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Headache from Guest127, IndyElora, Jessiness5134, Juniper, NetMyne01, Poolie, Princess Of The Kingdom, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Headquarters from Lunary  
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\- Heal/healing from Chgrgal, Deanaholic1, Jessiness5134, Lunary, Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Health/Healthy from Crazykids121  
\- Hear/hearing from floopdeedoopdee, Guest127, IndyElora, Lunary, Poolie, Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Heart attack from Crazykids121, Guest127, Lunary, Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Heart from Crazykids121, Lunary, Megan Rachel, Princess Of The Kingdom, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Heartache/heartbreak from Jessiness5134, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Heartbeat from Crazykids121  
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\- Heat exhaustion/stroke from Guest127, IndyElora, Lunary, NetMyne01, Perenne Allegro, Poolie, Princess Of The Kingdom, Rachel Graceland, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Heat from Crazykids121, IndyElora, Poolie, Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Heaven/heavenly from Jessiness5134, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Heavy from IndyElora, Lunary, Megan Rachel  
\- Hectic from Megan Rachel  
\- Hedge from Megan Rachel  
\- Hedgehog from Lunary, Megan Rachel  
\- Heel/heels from floopdeedoopdee, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Height/heights from IndyElora, Megan Rachel, NetMyne01, Poolie, Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Helicopter/helo from AeroWright, Chgrgal, Guest, HoneyPear, IndyElora, NetMyne01, Shellymae88  
\- Hell from Liz, Lunary, Megan Rachel, Rachel Graceland, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hellhole from Poolie  
\- Helmet from HoneyPear, Juniper, Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Help from Megan Rachel  
\- Hematoma from HoneyPear  
\- Hemorrhage/hemorrhaging from Deanaholic1, Elise Deschat, floopdeedoopdee, Guest, Jessiness5134, NetMyne01, Poolie  
\- Hemp from Jessiness5134, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Henpecked from Jessiness5134  
\- Hepatic from Elise Deschat  
\- Hepatitis from Megan Rachel  
\- Hero from Liz, Megan Rachel  
\- Hesitant/hesitantly/hesitated from Liz, Megan Rachel  
\- Hiatus from Megan Rachel  
\- Hide from Juniper, Liz, Megan Rachel  
\- High from HoneyPear, Lunary  
\- Hijinx from Jessiness5134  
\- Hiking from Megan Rachel  
\- Hill/Hillside from IndyElora, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hinder from HoneyPear, Liz  
\- Hip from Crazykids121, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hipster from Crazykids121  
\- Hit from Crazykids121, Poolie  
\- Hockey from Crazykids121, Megan Rachel, Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Hog from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hogtie from Jessiness5134, NetMyne01  
\- Hold on from HoneyPear  
\- Hole from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hollow from Lunary, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Home from Megan Rachel, Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Honestly/honesty from Jessiness5134, Shellymae88  
\- Honey from Crazykids121, Megan Rachel  
\- Honor/honorable from Megan Rachel, Shellymae88  
\- Hook from Megan Rachel  
\- Hope/hopeful/hopeless from Crazykids121, HoneyPear, Jessiness5134, Megan Rachel  
\- Hopping from Crazykids121  
\- Horn/horned from Crazykids121  
\- Horrible from Shellymae88  
\- Horror from Shellymae88  
\- Horse from IndyElora, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Horseback from Liz  
\- Horseshoe from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Horticulture from Crazykids121  
\- Host/hosting from Megan Rachel, Shellymae88  
\- Hostage from AeroWright, Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Hostile from Shellymae88  
\- Hot from Guest, Rachel Graceland, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hotel from Megan Rachel  
\- House from Lunary, Megan Rachel  
\- Howl/howled/howling from Lunary  
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\- Human from Megan Rachel  
\- Humdrum from MusketeerAdventure  
\- Humerus from Elise Deschat, kookiemonster318, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Humour/humorous from Victoria-Annxx  
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\- Hung/hang from floopdeedoopdee  
\- Hunger/hungry from Liz, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hunt/hunted/hunter/hunting from Deanaholic1, IndyElora, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hurricane from IndyElora, Megan Rachel, Poolie  
\- Hurt from Guest127, IndyElora, Juniper, Shellymae88  
\- Huzzah from Jessiness5134  
\- Hyena from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hyperthermia from floopdeedoopdee, HoneyPear, Juniper, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Hyperventilating from Elise Deschat, Juniper  
\- Hypoxia from Elise Deschat, Jessiness5134, Juniper


	9. Injuries and Intrigue

**Injuries and Intrigue**

* * *

 _ **Mexican Marine Headquarters - Infirmary**_

Jason leaned on the doorjamb of Clay's room, staring at the kid, lost in thought as the mechanical sounds of the ventilator breathing for Spenser echoed in his head. The beating the kid suffered from the hockey stick as he hung from the hook not only bruised his lungs but filled his pleural cavity with blood and the resulting hemothorax collapsed his right lung. The surgeon almost lost their rookie on the table as he repaired the damage to Clay's intestines and liver. They intubated him to give his lungs an opportunity to heal.

The last three days dragged on as they all waited for Spenser to wake. Blackburn and Martinez agreed with him that Clay would not be safe in the hospital with too many ingress points and unknown people having access. Especially since Doza had his hooks into the facility … the drug cartel leader funded the hospital's construction.

So, the morning after Clay's operation they moved him from the intensive care unit to the secure marine compound. Dr. Irving, Bravo team's doctor, believed an air-evac to the States was too risky given Spenser's precarious condition, so he arranged for all necessary medical equipment and supplies to be delivered in record time, and two Navy nurses were also flown in to provide round the clock care.

If Jason was honest with himself, he was glad the kid remained here. He didn't want Clay waking up isolated without his brothers around him for support. He had not missed Sonny's words on the hotel roof … ' _he hurt so much he needed to drown out his heartache.'_ Jason probed Sonny yesterday, and his 3IC finally revealed Stella dumped Clay right before they boarded the flight to Mexico.

He understood the emotional turmoil Clay was going through. Alana had told him she could no longer be his wife anymore right before they deployed to J-bad after Steve Porter and the rest of Echo died. The kid's demeanor since arriving in Mexico fit the heart-wrenching pain Jason experienced back then … loss of a friend and rejection from the woman he loved.

This was another reason he was relieved the kid was here and not back in Virginia. Spenser would not have anyone by his side to help him deal with the aftereffects of both the torture and his breakup back home. With Brian and Adam gone, Bravo was Clay's only friends … brothers, and with Stella out of the picture, no one would be there to care for him.

Naima would offer to sit with him and take care of him, but Clay didn't really know Ray's wife well enough to accept her help. So, Spenser would be in a vulnerable state and all alone. An indefensible situation in Jason's book since he was the reason Clay and Sonny ended up taken in the first place. His team was family, and the kid needed them more than ever now.

Jason needed to quit messing up with the kid, or they would lose him one way or another. _I screwed up and got Nate killed. I won't allow that to happen to Clay._ Jason's hand rubbed his thigh, something which happened when thoughts of Nate crept back in.

"Any signs of waking?" Sonny asked as he returned after going to grab lunch at Jason's insistence.

Jason shook his head. "No." He gave Sonny a once over, satisfied he finally began to appear somewhat rested, though he doubted Sonny's insomnia abated. Sonny had not left Spenser's side except for the short breaks he forced him to take. Dr. Irving wanted to keep Quinn on the inactive list for another week at least after the significant blow Sonny received to the side of his head, and Jason agreed without reservation.

It took a lot to bring Sonny Quinn down, and he didn't take well to sitting idle, but in this case, with the kid hurt, Sonny didn't balk once at being told to stand down. Jason also recognized Sonny carried guilt over the attack. He tried several times to talk him out of it, to no avail.

Not one to give up, Jason tried again, "This isn't your fault. I'm the one who suggested you take him out. This is on me."

Resuming his seat, Sonny peered at Jason. He had ample time to ruminate on the situation in the past three days. "Not only on you or me … we both knew better. Should've told you what was going on and not taken the kid outside the wire and gotten inebriated. We both fucked up and must atone for our indiscretions and irresponsible actions."

Sonny's gaze shifted to Clay. The invasive tube attached to his mouth, the one running down the kid's throat to provide oxygen, disturbed him more than all the other wires and drainage tubes poking out of his torso. He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips as the ever-present, infernal headache pulsed and ratcheted up another increment. _Concussions suck big time._

"Wish the kid would wake. We won't know how bad the injury to his head is until he does." Sonny focused on the abrasion around Clay's throat as his mind's eye replayed images of Clay being heaved off the roof with the noose around his neck. The sickening thought of the kid's neck snapping and the knowledge Clay fell two-floors and Sonny couldn't stop any of it, caused bile to rise and his gut to twist. He grabbed the emesis basin as he became ill.

Jason moved to the sink, wetted a cloth and filled a glass for Sonny. Though Sonny always projected an impenetrable, tougher-than-nails exterior, in truth, he was not impervious and possessed a caring heart. He would allow Sonny the dignity to claim the vomiting was due to the concussion, but having hurled himself after viewing the photos which ended up on the internet of Clay impaled by the whaling hook, he understood Sonny's current ralphing likely had to do with the kid's state.

Fortunately, Clay's face had been mostly unrecognizable in the snapshots due to the blood covering it and the position. Their IT guy continued to delete them every time they reappeared, and he hoped no one back home ever viewed them.

When Sonny finished, Jason handed over the water and waited while he rinsed before giving him the cloth. "Concussions are no joke. You might be down for longer than a week."

Sonny only grunted as he wiped his mouth. As he started to rise to dump the basin, Clay's day nurse appeared and relieved him of it and the rag, so he sat back down. Resting his elbows on his thighs, he lowered his face into his palms and sighed as the throbbing in his skull intensified. "What if he doesn't wake?"

Jason placed a hand on Sonny's shoulder. "He's one tough kid. Take a page from his book and remain optimistic."

Turning his head, Sonny gazed at Jason again. "Mary Poppins here does have the irritating habit of looking at the bright side of things."

A grin formed on Jason's face as the weirdest thought popped into his head. "I don't think anyone on Bravo has racked up as many nicknames as Spenser. Kid, Pretty Boy, Pin-up Girl, Peter Pan, Mr. GQ, Poster Boy, Young Jedi, Cover Girl, Bam-Bam, Ken Doll, and Hércules Hero."

Despite feeling crappy and worried sick about the kid, Sonny mirrored Jason's grin as he added, "Don't forget Blondie."

Jason nodded, but said, "That one is unoriginal. Besides, remember the Canadian's we encountered … I think Blondie belongs to Blaze's unit guy. We've got Goldilocks."

Both quieted as the nurse approached Clay to take his vitals. The medical staff watched him like a hawk, which all of the guys appreciated. The frown on her face caused Jason's apprehension to spike. "He doing okay?"

Shelia flinched at the master chief's inquiry. The implacable man unsettled her and relaying bad news about one of his men stirred up untold anxiety in her. "Um … I … well,"

"Spit it out," Jason demanded.

Sonny took pity on the intimidated nurse and used his soft Texas drawl as he said, "His bark is worse than his bite. How's our boy?"

Focusing on the one who never left her patient's side, Shelia gathered her wits and answered, "His temp is going up again. Not a good sign. Dr. Irving might need to change up the antibiotic to fight the infection."

Jason raked a hand through his hair. "Damn, the kid doesn't need to be fighting an infection on top of everything else."

"The hook was none too clean when they impaled …" Sonny trailed off as nausea threatened him again. The inhuman actions of Gonzales he would never forget nor Clay's scream. He couldn't sleep because the kid's howl haunted his dreams.

Trent entered, wanting to check on both Sonny and Clay and caught the last of Sonny's words. He tried to assuage Sonny's fears. "Kid's got a strong immune system, and he is damned stubborn. With the right meds, he's gonna fight this and come out on top."

As Shelia left to make her notes and contact the doctor, Brock and Ray sauntered in to check on Clay as well. With no intel on Doza to go on recently, they were all waiting around as Mandy, and her Mexican counterpart dug for information. Though, each of them silently gave thanks they had not been sent out yet even though this mission was now personal and they wanted payback for what Clay suffered.

Ray stopped near Jason. "Derek and Full Metal from Alpha team will be flying down the day after tomorrow to cover for Clay and Sonny. The rest of Alpha will be running a training cycle with Green team. Admiral Droit almost scrubbed us and brought in Charlie, but Blackburn went to bat for us."

As the team discussed the news Ray brought, none of them noted the slight twitch of Clay's hand.

Clawing his way up from the depths of hell … or better yet the Arctic with as cold as he was, unsure of anything other than pain and the inability to breathe, Clay attempted to move his icy, leaded arms to his throat to pull out whatever had been shoved down. Unable to lift a hand or call out for help, fighting for air, the sense of drowning overtook him. A high-pitched, incessant ringing filled his ears as he began to struggle against the hands of his father dragging him down to his death.

Trent went into action as the alarm went off as Clay fought against the ventilator's forced breaths. He didn't worry the kid would pull out the tubing, he had the insight to restrain his hands to the bed, but he forgot about his lower body. "Jace, Brock grab his legs. Ray get the doc," he ordered as he moved to Clay's head.

"Relax, Kid. Don't fight. Let the ventilator do its job. Relax." Trent continued speaking, trying to break through to his semi-conscious brother.

"Sonny, hold his left arm, so he doesn't knock the cast around and hurt himself," Jason called out as he held onto Clay's thrashing leg.

"At least he can't kick me out of a helo this time," Brock quipped as he latched on to the bare foot and pushed the limb down on the mattress, moving his other hand to depress Clay's knee too.

"Kid, stop fighting this instant," Sonny bellowed irregardless of the pain it caused his aching head as he pinned Clay's arm.

Panic consumed Clay as he blinked open his eyes as someone yelled at him, which increased his struggling instead of abating it.

"Stand down," Jason commanded in a voice which brooked no dissent. Gaining Clay's attention, he continued with the harsh authority, recognizing it was the only thing cutting through. "Stay still. You are intubated. Calm and let it breath for you." As Clay's resistance lessened, Jason relaxed his tone a bit. "Good. Good. That's it. You're safe. We got you, Kid."

Dr. Irving and Shelia rushed in with Ray. Irving went straight to the head of the bed and started talking to his patient, assessing the situation and listening to Clay's lungs, determining now would be a good time to remove the ventilator.

As the alarm quieted, Clay's body sagged, the exertion of the last few moments taking all his energy. Confused, he listened to the doctor and the sensation of drowning ebbed as he quit battling against the forced air. The process of pulling out the tubing was not fun, his throat was on fire, but at least he could breathe on his own. Though, doing so caused additional pain. He attempted to move his right hand again to press against his chest.

"Sorry, buddy, had to restrain you or else you could've done more damage if you yanked out the tube on your own." Trent unlatched the soft cuff holding Clay's wrist as the doctor adjusted the flow of oxygen through the nasal cannula and the nurse released Clay's other hand.

Clay eyed the men around him. He wanted to talk, to ask questions, but making any sound would as impossible as swallowing a bowling ball … not happening.

Dr. Irving said, "Well, son, breathing on your own is progress, but you will need to take things very slow. Speaking will hurt for a few days so refrain from doing too much." He turned to the concerned teammates. "Try to stick to only yes or no questions so he can nod or shake his head to answer."

Clay's eyes drifted shut, keeping them open took way too much effort.

"Open your eyes," Trent demanded, not caring he overstepped his position, but needing to know the extent of the head injury.

With a great deal of effort, Clay opened them and peered at the man with long hair and a beard … not the doctor.

"Are you in Virginia?" Trent inquired.

Clay nodded.

"Shit," Sonny muttered.

"Are you in Mexico City?"

Confusion lit Clay's eyes, and he shook his head. He wanted to ask why the idiotic question since he just answered yes to being in Virginia.

Trent's gaze met the doctor's. "Not good."

Irving considered the next question. "Do you know your name?" Getting a nod, he said, "Whisper."

"Wait." Trent peered at Shelia. "Get me some ice chips."

Clay's eyes slipped closed again as he forced out, "Cl … ay … Sp … en … ser."

Shelia returned with a cup and Trent scooped up two tiny pieces. "Open up. This will help quench the fire and make it easier."

The icy liquid did feel good, but speaking would still be an immense challenge. His body began to shiver, the cold he experienced upon waking reasserting itself. "Co … ld."

"Fever," Trent replied.

Dr. Irving inserted himself, regaining control, though he no longer resented Trent's intrusion into his domain. _The medic cares deeply for his brothers, and he is an intelligent man … doctor material._ "So, you are in Virginia, is that correct?"

Clay nodded.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

Jason and the rest waited on pins and needles for Clay to answer, especially since the kid believed he was back home.

His mind scrambled, things incongruent, wondering what the hell happened in training to land him in the hospital with Hayes' infamous Bravo team surrounding his bed. Clay lit on the last solid memory. _Ah shit!_ He cracked his eyes open and peered at Hayes who appeared irate with his arms crossed on his chest.

More ice was spooned into his mouth, and Clay used the time it melted to gather the energy necessary to speak, hating to admit his failure. "Lea … ving … the … gym … after … bot … tom … five … pos … ted."

Jason's eyes flared as he sought out Trent. "What the hell?" They turned back to Spenser. "The last thing you recall is finding out you were in the bottom five of Green team?"

Giving a slight nod, Clay lost his battle with staying awake even though he wanted to know what happened to him.

Dr. Irving noted Clay slipped off. "Shelia, administer the fever reducer and change out the antibiotics to what I ordered. We need to drop his temp and get this infection under control."

"How can he lose so much time?" Brock inquired.

"That's over a year ago. He lost a whole year?" Sonny gaped.

"It's not unheard of with head injuries. We may be looking at retrograde amnesia, but I won't know without further testing." Irving rechecked Clay's vitals, not entirely happy with the oxygen saturation so he increased the level until satisfied.

"Will his memory come back?" Ray moved to the foot of the bed and waited for Irving to answer.

"Perhaps. A lot of the mind's workings are still inexplicable. Some people retrieve all memories, and some never regain the lost time. He is too exhausted now to do further analysis. Tomorrow will be soon enough. Take heart in the fact he woke, can speak, and is coherent. A few lost memories is incredibly lucky given the height of his fall and the other injuries he suffered."

The doctor's words sank in and the guys all nodded … Clay was indeed fortunate to be alive.

* * *

 _ **Mexican Marine Headquarters – Roof Firepit**_

The guys along with Lisa and Eric all gathered on the rooftop under the night sky. Most lost in thoughts centered on Clay as they sipped beer. Only Sonny remained empty-handed, denied alcohol by Trent again due to his concussion.

Lisa broke the silence. "Does anyone know when exactly Clay met Stella?" She received shrugs all around. She pursed her lips in thought. "Depending on when, he might not recall his relationship with her. If he regains his memories, he's gonna go through the heartbreak all over again."

Jason took a swig. "Not the only one."

Nodding Ray said, "His buddy Brian died after the list was posted."

"And Adam too," Sonny added wishing he could become intoxicated to deal with the guilt consuming him.

"Should we tell him or wait for him to remember?" Lisa asked as she focused on Trent

When all eyes landed on him, Trent growled. "Don't know. Give me a bullet wound to treat, and I'm your guy. Head injuries of this sort …" He shook his head. "I'm not a neurologist nor versed memory loss."

Brock peered at Jason and Eric. "What happens to his place on the team if he can't remember?"

Jason took another swig, not a question he wanted to think about now. He wanted to inoculate himself with enough beer so he didn't have to feel the remorse for his inexcusable decision to send Sonny and Clay out to a bar to loosen the kid's tongue, but he wouldn't. As team leader, his job was to stay on task and ensure the welfare of his men … something he refused to fail at again.

"If he heals physically and passes a psychological exam, I see no reason he couldn't come back," Eric said, though part of him didn't believe it would be possible given the almost insurmountable obstacles to Clay's recovery. A fact he kept to himself since he was not ignorant of the likelihood of Sonny going off like a roman candle for even suggesting Clay wouldn't return.

"Keyword is if." Ray stood and moved to the roof's edge and stared down into the center of the compound. Guilt weighed on him. His shot resulted in Spenser falling and hitting his head, causing the kid's memory issue, but if he hadn't fired, the kid would be dead. He just couldn't figure out if Clay would thank him or curse him if he could no longer be an operator.

During his time teaching Green team after his shoulder injury, Ray almost went insane not being able to be part of Bravo. All team guys had one thing in common … they wanted to fight the good fight, and if they were incapacitated, they withered on the vine.

Having been away from Clay for far too long … again at the insistence of Jason, Sonny stood. "Calling it a night."

"I'll head on inside with you. The insects are eating me up tonight." Lisa tossed her half-filled beer in the trash. Her guys were falling apart, and she didn't know how to put them back together, but for tonight she would keep Sonny company in Clay's room. The teddy bear needed someone to watch out for him too.

* * *

 _ **Virginia – University – Faculty Office**_

Frank Isaksson stared at the image, and a sneer came to his face. His hatred for Stella's boyfriend increased as word of the soldier's idiotic heroics at the gallery swirled around him. Stella deserved someone more refined, someone who wasn't a warmonger, … someone like him. "Hey, Morgan. You gotta see this." He waved over his colleague whom he had been at odds with ever since the heist at the Farris Gallery.

Working later than normal, and irritated at being interrupted in grading the boatload of poorly written essays, Morgan glanced over at Frank. "What do I have to see?"

"I think this is a photo of Stella's guy."

Morgan pushed back his chair and stood. He stretched his back before ambling over. Isaksson's obsession with Stella, or more precisely trying to find incriminating dirt on her boyfriend to dissuade her from continuing a relationship with the guy, was becoming irksome.

"Okay, so what do you think you found this—" Morgan abruptly stopped as his eyes rounded and his brows shot to the ceiling. "Jesus H. Christ!" Morgan's stomach did several loops, his dinner now unsettled, as he viewed the image of a beaten and bloody man hanging from a hook. "That's inhumane. How in the world did you find something like that?"

"Just popped up when I was searching." Frank leaned back after hitting the print button. "Another example of our military sticking their noses into international affairs. We have no business going into Mexico and dealing with a drug lord. We aren't the world's police force."

Morgan's hand shook as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Why are you printing that?"

"Thought Stella might be interested in seeing."

"ARE YOU INSANE? NO WAY AM I ALLOWING YOU TO SHOW THIS TO STELLA!" Morgan grabbed the printout and ripped it in half.

"I can always print another copy." Frank right clicked to select print again.

"Why would you want her to view something so utterly brutal. She loves the guy, and you want to hurt her intentionally by showing her this?" Incredulous and incensed, Morgan waved the two pieces at Frank. "You're despicable. Your thought process is unbalanced. If you follow through with this … our friendship will be irrevocably broken."

"Why shouldn't she be aware of what his activities wrought?" Frank clicked print. "This is his just desserts for trying to play hero."

Usually not a violent man, Morgan didn't hold back as he let his fist fly. He shook out his hand, his knuckles throbbing, likely busting a couple when his fisted hand connected with Frank's jaw. "You're an ignoramus!" he declared to Isaksson's inert body which sagged in the chair, his one punch knocking out his former friend.

Grabbing the second printout, Morgan took both to the shredder and destroyed the images. He blew out a breath before fishing for his cell and placing a call to Stella. When she answered, he said, "Hello, Stella. I was wondering if you would grab a drink with me. I need to talk to you about something important." He paused as she indicated she was busy and asked if it could wait until tomorrow. "No, it can't wait, and I don't want to speak on the phone."

When she agreed and suggested that they meet at the Iron Iris coffee shop in twenty minutes, he hung up the phone. Morgan took one last glance at the insensitive and insufferable asshole who used to be a friend before he strode out of the office.

* * *

 _ **Mexican Marine Headquarters – Infirmary**_

Isabella wiped the sweat from her patient's forehead again. The fever as a result of the infection had gotten worse, not better even after the change in antibiotics. When she took over from Shelia after dinner, her colleague told her Dr. Irving wanted updates every thirty minutes.

She peered at the bruised face of the blond SEAL as she wrung out the cloth after dipping it in cool water. He would be irresistibly handsome without all the inflammation. She glimpsed his blue eyes when he woke briefly an hour ago. His fever made him incoherent as he called out for someone named Stella. His moans and whimpers broke her heart when he moved earlier, and she injected another dose of morphine via his IV port to ease his pain.

Sonny and Lisa entered as the night nurse took Clay's temperature. "Fever going down?" Sonny asked as he moved to the bed and picked up the washcloth, dipped it into the pan of water, squeezed it out, and gently dabbed at Clay's face.

Lisa couldn't stop the upturn of her lips … most people only ever saw the irascible side of Sonny, never the sensitive and caring side.

"Going up, not down," Isabella answered as she dialed the doctor. After a short conversation, she gazed at the burly SEAL. "I hate to impose on you, but I could use your help. The doc wants me to use the cooling pads which means I'm going to have to reposition Clay to put them under him."

"Whatever you need." Sonny set the rag down.

"I'll help too," Lisa offered as she moved forward.

Isabella hurried out and returned several moments later with her arms full. "We'll need to roll him on his left side first, but need to raise his broken arm above his head so no weight is placed on it." As they worked, Isabella said, "Before you came in, he was mumbling a name. Do you know who Stella is?"

Lisa averted her eyes as Clay's bare butt became visible as the indiscreet hospital gown shifted when they rolled him. Her tone icy, angry at Stella, she answered, "She's no one important."

"Sure sounded like she might be …" Isabella trailed off as she caught sight of a flash of inconspicuous hatred on Sonny's face. She sucked in her bottom lip and chewed on it. _Well, now, there must be a story there, but it is not my place to pry._

Pulled from oblivion as agony increased, Clay moaned. Lifting his eyelids to find out what was going on took too much effort. He groaned again as his body shifted, the pain in his right side and left arm shooting to the moon. "St … op," he begged in a broken voice barely above a whisper which caused his throat to catch fire again.

"Sorry, brother, gotta move you. You're burning up with fever, and we need to douse the fire," Sonny crooned in his soft drawl. He grimaced knowing he was causing the kid pain but understood the need to move him.

The voice sounded familiar … like someone Clay trusted. He moaned again as he was laid flat on his back. He shivered when coming in contact with something icy. He wanted off but didn't dare move as he panted through the all-consuming pain.

"Now, let's carefully shift him on the right … we need to ensure the sutures are not pulled," Isabella instructed as she prepared to lay the cooling pad under Spenser's left side.

"Aaaaarrrrghhh," erupted from Clay and morphed into moaning as they turned him to his right side. Instinct drove him to lash out, but he was ineffectual in his attempt to strike … a two-ton weight wrapped around his arm preventing him from lifting it.

"Whoa there, Bam-Bam!" Sonny grabbed for Clay's casted arm, holding it in place, so he didn't cause further harm. "I know it hurts, and I wouldn't do this unless necessary." He glanced at the nurse. "When can he have more meds?"

"Not for another hour. With his lung injury, we can't give him as much morphine as we'd like because the medication depresses respiration and the doctor doesn't want him getting insufficient oxygen."

As the heart rate monitor started beeping, Sonny leaned in close. "Okay listen up, Goldilocks. We're gonna breathe together, and you're gonna get through this. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. That's right. Inhale … hold … exhale." Sonny kept up the chant as Clay calmed and followed along.

Clay latched onto the voice, finding comfort in the timbre as he breathed through the pain. He shivered uncontrollably as he was lowered to his back once again. "Cccc oooold."

"I know, I know. We got you laying on an igloo to bring down your fever." Sonny held the kid's hand as his eyes misted ever so slightly, wanting to relieve his little brother's discomfort.

Lisa wished she could do something to help Clay, but in reality, she knew she couldn't take his pain or fever away, so she only stood at the foot of the bed and observed as Sonny attempted to keep Clay relaxed.

His eyes opening in a narrow slit, Clay found the voice belonged to Bravo's weapons expert, a man with a reputation of being an inscrutable hard-ass. The inconsistency between what he knew of Quinn and the fact he held his hand and spoke kind words confused Clay. _Why is Quinn even here? Where is Brian? What happened to me?_ He wanted answers, but before he could form any words, the arms of Morpheus encircled him, pulling him back down into the black abyss.

Sonny sighed as Clay's hand went lax in his, relieved the kid found escape from his torment in insensibility. He stayed a few more moments before setting the kid's hand on the lightweight sheet and moving to the recliner Trent relocated to this room for him. Dropping into the chair, Sonny's gaze met Lisa's. "I don't know how to do this."

"You sure? You calmed him down quite well." Lisa pulled one of the plastic chairs closer to Sonny.

"You didn't see his eyes. I think he blames me." Sonny leaned back and let out a long breath.

"How can he? He doesn't even remember. And besides, this isn't your fault. That lies with Doza and his indentured goons."

"But he was calling for Stella."

"That could be subconscious …" Lisa sighed. "You know, that is probably a positive sign. If unconsciously he recalls her, then his memories are not lost. It might take a little time, but I'm hopeful they will return."

"And when they do … he'll blame me … as is only right." Sonny raked a hand over his face.

"Sonny—"

"No," he interrupted. "I'm the senior member. I should've used my head. I shouldn't have taken him outside the compound no matter what Jason said."

Lisa shook her head, not liking this whole situation in the least. "Jace shouldn't have told you to take him out."

"I should have told Jason what is up. He has too much on his mind after Alana died and having to manage Emma and Mikey on his own. I let Clay down. He is my responsibility, and I failed him. Ray's the only one with a clear head … but he also laid into the kid the morning after we went out the first time and told him he doesn't get to second guess Jason."

Sonny shifted. "Maybe the kid was right to question Jason's headspace. He should've questioned mine too. When Clay recalls, if he does, he will most likely request a transfer. Might be the best thing for him … he needs a team that won't let him down."

Her ire up, Lisa bit back, "What Clay needs is Bravo. You all need each other. It's time you quit wallowing in self-pity, pull up your bootstraps and be there for Spenser. You know damned well he would lay his life on the line for each and every one of you … and has numerous times. The least you can do is to stop this crap thinking and man-up for him when he needs you all the most."

Duly chastised Sonny gaped at Lisa as she stood.

"Now, the best way you can help him is to ensure you don't fall ill. Get your butt up out of that chair, go to your bed and get some decent sleep. You'll need to be well rested when he wakes tomorrow because I'm sure he's gonna have a ton of questions." Lisa crossed her arms and glared at Sonny. Someone had to kick his ass in gear, and it looked like it fell to her.

"I'll sleep here," Sonny responded.

"No, you won't." Lisa pointed to the door. "Move. I'll stay here tonight, and his nurse is more than competent. Go rest."

Grumbling, Sonny rose and headed for the door. At the entry, he stopped and turned. "Call me if anything changes or he needs me."

"Will do." Lisa heavily exhaled as Sonny exited.

Isabella chuckled. "Wow. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were an officer with the way you got him to comply. And by the way, thanks … he needed sleep."

Lisa only nodded as she moved to the recliner and sat. She still hadn't told anyone about her commission and decided to hold off indefinitely since Bravo appeared to be in a freefall with no backup chute. _Will Bravo survive this mission as an intact team?_

* * *

 _ **Iron Iris Coffee Shop**_

Stella gaped at Morgan as he finished. "Why would Frank want to show me something so horrible?" She couldn't wrap her head around some items. One, Frank would intentionally search for things on Clay. Two, how he thought that would engender him to her. And three, most importantly … "Wait, was it Clay?"

Morgan lowered his eyes to the table, intending to lie. "Could've been anyone with blond hair. The face was not really visible." He left out the part about it being covered in blood, the fact the man was impaled and hanging from a hook, and wearing a t-shirt he had seen Clay wear once before, the gray one with white lettering which read _Nobody_ _cares. Work harder._ He glossed over the details, only saying it was of a man beaten.

"But Frank believed it was Clay?" Her eyes beseeched Morgan, fear for Clay ratcheting up and immobilizing her.

Raising his eyes to meet Stella's, Morgan covered her hands with his. "Frank is an inconsiderate ass who has an inflated sense of his worth and enjoys making inflammatory remarks. I can't truly speak to his motivation, he might be infatuated with you, but I can tell you for sure that ever since Clay risked his life to save us all at the faculty gala, something has been off with Frank. Almost like he possesses the infantile belief Clay did what he did to make us look like cowards and idiots for hiding in the bathroom while he single-handedly defused all those bombs."

"But … that's what Clay does. It is who he is. He runs toward danger when most everyone else runs away. He's a protector … an elite soldier. He only did what he did to help us, not to outshine anyone else." Stella pulled her hands away.

Her words knocked around in her head and mixed with her muddled thoughts. _Clay wants to protect everyone, but I fear for his life every time he leaves. He almost died in Mumbai … Adam did._ She wished she hadn't ignored all of the times Clay tried to contact her after he got spun up again. Now she had no clue if he was truly the man in the photo Morgan told her about.

"I'm sorry, Stella. I only wanted to give you a heads-up, so Frank didn't blindside you with that damned image." Morgan shuddered as he recalled the photo.

Stella drew in a breath. "Thanks. I appreciate your concern." She pushed back her chair and rose. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Morgan nodded. "Let me know if you hear from Clay."

"He normally doesn't call while on a mission." She deflected because she had not shared with anyone that she broke up with him before he left.

"Didn't he contact you during deployment?" Morgan opened his wallet and put down enough to cover their coffees and a tip too before he stood.

"Yes, but that is different."

"Must be hard never knowing when he is gone and when he will return. If you ever need someone to talk to … give me a ring. My partner says I'm an excellent listener."

Taking the opportunity to move away from thoughts of Clay, Stella inquired, "How is Ian?"

"He's well and enjoying his trip to Indonesia, although several in the tour group have come down with a mild case of influenza. He's hoping it bypasses him."

As they walked out, Stella asked, "Are you two still planning on the trip to Iceland?"

Morgan chuckled. "Not if I can talk Ian out of it. I have no desire to go view icebergs and have icicles hanging off my nose. I would prefer to travel to India, Italy, or perhaps Ireland. A pub tour to all the places Professor Flanagan keeps talking about would interest me more."

Stella smiled despite being ill at ease after their conversation. Flanagan was the first professor not to turn his nose up at Clay, believing him some simple-minded imbecile and ingratiated himself by asking Clay to join him for a beer when they met. Those two enjoyed a long conversation on many topics. _Clay's an intelligent man … not a knuckle dragger as many of my colleagues imply._

As she reached her car, she turned to Morgan. "Thanks again." She waited until Morgan left, and then her tears started. _Please don't let it be Clay in the photo. Please let him be alright._

* * *

 _ **Stella's Apartment**_

Unable to get the thought out of her mind all the way home and for the past three hours, Stella paced in her living room, and her gaze kept returning to the laptop. She tried contacting Clay multiple times. He never answered.

Though Morgan sought to insulate her from Frank's ignoble and insincere attempt to dissuade her from caring for Clay, he sparked an insatiable desire to know if the photo was actually the man she loved or some other poor soul.

The itch to sit down and do an internet search intruded upon every single thought to the point she needed to scratch it or go insane. No longer able to ignore it, Stella plopped onto her couch and pulled the laptop to her. Fingers hovered over the keys as she wondered what Frank would've searched on to locate the photo.

She typed Clay's name and hit search. Photos of several Clay Spenser's came up, and one of Ash Spenser, Clay's father, but none of Clay himself. With no clue as to what their mission was or where Stella stared at the screen. _Come on, what would the inglorious bastard Frank search for? He hates the military …_

Her thoughts were interrupted by the ping indicating a new email. Hoping it was from Clay, she switched to her email program and stopped cold as she read Frank Isaksson's name in her inbox, noting it contained an attachment. With a shaking hand, she opened and read the message.

 _Dear Stella,_

 _Thought this might interest you. Your warmongering boyfriend isn't right for you. You need someone who his more sophisticated and won't leave you at the drop of a hat … or the ringing of a cell phone — someone who will put you first, instead of traipsing around the world sticking his nose into international affairs where we don't belong and ultimately coming home in a pine box._

 _Call me when you decide to drop the indoctrinated, immature, illiterate boy and are ready for a real man._

 _Yours Truly, Frank_

Rage burned bright as Stella digested the infuriating words, but she moved the cursor over the attached image … uncertain if she should open it. Once seen, she could never unsee whatever it contained.

Her finger lowered and double clicked at the same time her eyes closed. She took several deep breaths. _It's not going to be Clay. He is safe. The men of Bravo take care of him. It won't be him._

Opening her eyes, she instantly focused on the face. The blood covering it would never in a million years hide the fact it was Clay. She knew him intimately … had caressed his cheeks and run her fingers through his curly locks an incalculable number of times. Her gaze shifted down, wondering at the odd angle of his body.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" ripped from her throat as she spotted the huge hook embedded in Clay's gut. Her face crumbled as she realized he was hanging by that hook. Tears welled, blurring her vision as heart-wrenching sobs wracked her body. Her wails pierced the night air as she folded inward, wrapping her arms around herself.

Hearing banshee-like screeching, Ivy rushed out of her bedroom, unsure what to expect and found Stella curled in a ball on their couch and her laptop on the carpet. "Stella, are you hurt?" She dropped to a knee, searching for something, anything to tell her what happened.

Gutted by what she viewed, her heart shattering into immeasurable pieces, Stella didn't realize she woke her roommate as she continued to sob and crocodile tears streamed down her face. "Clay, Clay, Clay … no, no, no … Clay no," she chanted in indescribable despair.

Insistent, Ivy shook Stella and considered slapping her face. She was aware Stella dumped Clay but still loved the guy. With the repeated calling of his name, Ivy worried Stella had been informed he died … but then she realized someone would've come to the door, not called. Although she wondered if that were really the case because Stella wasn't Clay's next of kin and wouldn't be notified via the normal channel.

"STELLA, WHAT'S WRONG?" Ivy yelled trying to break through the irrational behavior. Her gaze moved to the overturned computer, and she picked it up. Aghast, Ivy's eyes rounded at the image. "Is that Clay?" She assumed so when Stella didn't answer … though, in truth, Ivy couldn't ascertain the identity of the person given the amount of blood on the man's face. Her stomach became queasy with only one glimpse.

She turned her attention back to Stella. Her friend's sobbing showed no signs of stopping as Stella rocked herself in a fetal position. At a loss for what to do, Ivy reached for Stella's discarded phone, but she didn't know who to call. Stella's mother was out for sure. The woman had been a real witch lately, hounding Stella about choosing a man who would provide for her adequately and not leave her alone all the time like Clay. The old biddy didn't understand Stella loved Clay with all her heart.

Ivy scrolled through the contacts and happened upon Naima, a name she recognized as one of the wives of Bravo. She punched call, and after several rings, a groggy voice answered, "Stella?"

"Naima, you don't know me. I'm Stella's friend Ivy. I need help. I have no idea what to do."

Sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes and checking the clock, noting it was near midnight, and hearing wailing in the background, Naima said, "Tell me what is going on."

"I'm not exactly sure. Stella is inconsolable. I think she saw a picture of Clay someone sent her. It's horrific. If it is him, someone impaled him on a hook and beat the ever-living tar out of him. What do I do?"

Throwing off her covers, Naima rose. "Stay with her. I'm going to make some calls, and I'll get back to you shortly. Someone will be over to help soon too. I'll come as soon as my mother can get here to watch my kids."

"Thanks." Ivy stared at the phone when it disconnected. She didn't understand the military community. It surprised her that Naima would instantly offer to come over at this time of night. And she wondered who else would be showing up.

She turned back to Stella who began to hyperventilate. "Hey, hey, slow it down. Inhale slower." She rubbed Stella's arm feeling completely inadequate to help her friend.

* * *

 _ **Mexican Marine Headquarters – Bravo Hooch**_

The incessant ringing of Ray's phone pulled him from sleep. He peered at the screen and nearly fell out of his hammock when he registered it was his wife. He put his feet on the floor and stood. "Naima, is everyone alright?"

A sigh of relief escaped from Naima. Though she didn't know the circumstances yet, thoughts of her husband being in harm's way played in her mind. "Ray, baby, I'm glad you answered. The kids and I are fine. I need a straight answer from you. We have an incident, and I must know the truth if I'm going to help."

Ray held still. "What type of incident?" Thoughts of Doza's men going after his family crept in. If they identified Clay and Sonny, chances were the rest of their identities might be compromised too. And he wouldn't put it past Doza to target their families even though they were in the States.

"I don't have the full details. A friend of Stella's just called me, frantic and asking for help. Stella was crying in the background. All I know is someone sent Stella a picture and Ivy believes it might be Clay based on Stella's reaction. She said the man in the photo was impaled on a hook and badly beaten. Please tell me Clay is alright and it isn't him."

Ray's heart dropped at the same time as his worry increased. "Who sent her the photo?"

Naima sucked in a breath and tears prickled her eyes. Ray would've told her it wasn't Clay immediately if it was not him … but he asked who sent the picture. "I don't know." Her voice shook as she asked, "Is Clay dead?"

"No. No. Sorry, should've said that first. He's injured, but alive. Babe, I hate to ask this of you … we need to know who sent it."

"I called Trish, and she is on her way … she knows Stella best with her and Derek living across the hall from Clay's place. I'm going over as soon as Mom arrives. I'll find out for you. Are they shipping Clay home?"

"Not yet."

"When? How bad is he?"

"No idea when, and bad, really bad." Ray contemplated telling Naima about the breakup and Clay's amnesia but decided to hold off for now. "Don't look at the photo, please. We tried to wipe them from the internet, but …"

"Once it is out there, it is perpetual." Naima sunk onto her bed. "Is there anything I can do?"

Ray strode to Jason's area as he said, "Just call me as soon as you find out how Stella received the photo."

"I mean for Clay?" Naima clarified.

"Pray. The kid needs all the prayers he can get."

"Okay. I'll call you soon." Naima hung up and bowed her head sending up a plea to God to watch over the men of Bravo team and to heal Clay.

Moving to Jason's hammock, he shook his friend. "Jace, wake up. We got an issue."

Blinking his heavy lids open, Jason peered up at Ray. "What?"

"Someone sent Stella that damned photo Gonzales took of Clay. Naima is on her way over to Stella's place, and so is Trish." Ray squeezed the back of his neck. "Guess the IT guy didn't wipe out the damned thing."

Wide awake now, Jason sat up. "Do we know who sent it?"

"Not yet. If it is one of Doza's men, our families might be in danger."

"Roust the others. I'll grab Eric and Mandy. I want everyone in the TOC in five minutes." Jason pulled on his pants and shoved his feet into his shoes. He grabbed a shirt and pulled it on as he exited the team's quarters.

* * *

 ** _Mexican Marine Headquarters – Infirmary_**

Clay woke as he overheard voices, but he struggled to comprehend and to open his eyes. His body was being insubordinate and failed to cooperate with his desires. He shivered as cool liquid ran down his face and a soft cloth followed. So cold, Clay wished for his last deployment with Team Three in the hot, dry Afghanistan desert.

"Why would she care?" Lisa responded when Sonny came to get her. She now held an inverse opinion of Stella. Clay would be well rid of such a feckless woman. He needed someone who would weather the storms with him, and be there to support him through thick and thin.

"You didn't view the photos … having been there and seeing the damned things too … someone would have to be insane not to be affected by them. And, well, he told me she loved him but resented his life. Cut her a little slack." Sonny glanced at Clay. "Not a conversation we should be having right now. Jace wants us in TOC in case this is Doza's doing."

"I'm not about to let her off the hook …" Lisa cringed at her choice of words. "Her timing was inappropriate and insensitive. If she waited, he wouldn't have been intoxicated and inattentive." She waved at the bed. "And he wouldn't be here in this condition."

Sonny grimaced. "My fault not hers."

"I don't agree. Her inconsiderate actions started the ball rolling." Lisa stormed out of the room intent on heeding Jason's directive to assemble at the TOC, and Sonny jogged to catch up with her.

Isabella sighed as the two left. "Well, now you can rest without the loud noises waking you."

With immense effort, Clay lifted his eyelids. It took a moment to focus. His tongue darted out to lick his dry lips … they felt as rough as an iguana.

"Want some ice chips?" Isabella asked.

Clay nodded and was rewarded with a couple of pieces. He let them melt, quenching the fire still raging in his throat and opened for more.

"Only a little … you are not ready for more just yet." Isabella gave Clay two more chips.

After he swallowed, Clay managed to croak out, "What … hap … pened … to me?"

Isabella turned to put the cup on the table. "You were injured. I don't have the details. The doctor can explain when he comes in." She pivoted back, ready to give him a smile and kind word, but noted her patient slipped unconscious again. She noted the brief moment of consciousness on the chart. Due to the raging fever, he never stayed awake more than a few moments, and this was the first time he spoke on her shift.

* * *

 _ **Mexican Marine Headquarters – TOC**_

Jason paced as he ran his fingers through his hair. So much for sleeping tonight. As the team, Mandy, Eric, and Lisa congregated an internal debate roared in his head. Irate the photo made it to someone one of the team cared about, the kid still loved Stella even though she ripped his heart out, and worried they had been compromised, Jason waffled between wanting to fly home this instant to protect his children and staying here to rip apart the country until they located and killed Doza.

Eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and hair sticking up at odd angles, not taking time to do more than pull on clothes haphazardly, Eric assumed command. "Ray, explain what is going on."

Ray related Naima's call to the those gathered and finished, "I'm waiting for her to call back."

Blackburn nodded. "Your identities may have been burned. Jason, what do you want to do?"

Halting, Jason drew in a breath. "I don't want to instill fear in our families unless it is warranted. Reacting impulsively might cause more harm than good."

"So, you want us to sit idle indefinitely?" Sonny responded, feeling impotent and wanting to blow away all of Doza's suspected hiding places. Inaction didn't sit well with him. No one messed with Bravo team's families and went unscathed.

"Not indefinitely, only until we receive actionable intel," Jason stated. He turned to Mandy. "Get your IT guys up and get them in here. Impress on them the need to do more than a half-assed job."

Incensed by Jason continually impugning of her work and that of her colleagues, she bit back. "I'm not the one who told Sonny to take Clay outside the wire and get him drunk. You are not infallible, Hayes. We are not incompetent. We're doing the best we can—"

Playing peacemaker, an aspect of his job that was used quite often ever since he took over commanding Hayes, Eric interrupted Ellis, "No one is questioning your integrity. Infiltrating the drug cartel and locating a man who has operated with impunity for over a decade is no easy task. Otherwise, the Mexican authorities wouldn't have sought out the best-damned team to assist them."

Setting both hands on the table, Eric leaned forward, his expression stern. "This infighting and insulting one another stops now. We can't continue this way, or someone else is gonna end up injured or possibly dead. And I can say without a doubt, none of you want that to occur."

Eric's deep inhalation was heard as the room went silent. "We ALL are invested in taking down Doza. This is no longer only about a DEA agent. The bastard went after one of our own, and we WILL get payback."

He waited until he received a nod from each one. "Mandy, we do need the IT guy in here now to scrub the internet again. We must proactively ensure the team's identities and their families are secure while we wait for Ray's wife to call back. Meanwhile, the rest of you … grab some coffee. It's gonna be a long night."

* * *

 _ **Stella's Apartment**_

After knocking, Naima took in the scene when Trish opened the door to Stella's place. A distraught Stella sat tucked into the corner of her sofa, legs pulled close to her chest, eyes red-rimmed, and a tissue gripped in a white-knuckled fist. "Thanks for coming so fast, Trish. I would've been here sooner, but didn't want to drag the kids out in the middle of the night."

"No worries. She is torn apart by the picture she insists is Clay. I didn't look at it … her friend Ivy said it is disturbing." Trish shut the door, and they both moved toward Stella. "Hey, Stella, Naima is here."

Ivy rose from her place next to Stella. "Hi, I'm Ivy. Would you like a cup of tea? I've got the pot on to make some Camille for Stella."

"Please." Naima took a seat beside Stella and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I called Ray."

Stella's bloodshot, watery eyes moved from staring at the closed laptop to Naima. She waited to hear Clay was dead and a hiccuping sob escaped along with a tear.

"Oh, honey. He's not dead. He's injured but being taken care of right now."

Stella's body shook as she started crying again. Naima pulled her close and patted her back. After several minutes Stella pulled back. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Ray wouldn't lie." Naima handed Stella another tissue.

"How bad? When will he be coming home?" Stella realized Trish and Naima must not know she ended things with Clay since they were treating her so kindly, and she chose not to inform them because she needed to know how Clay fared.

"Ray didn't share the details, so I'm unsure. However, the team needs to know who sent you the photo. Can you tell me?"

Inhaling shakily, Stella nodded. "From someone who I thought was a friend. Frank Isaksson works in the political science department at the university, and I met him about eighteen months ago. He is a bit idiosyncratic, anti-military, and never made it a secret he didn't like Clay, but I never thought Frank would be so incredibly cruel."

Wiping her eyes again, rage ignited in the pit of her stomach. "In Frank's email, he had the nerve to call Clay an immature boy and say when I wanted a real man to call him. The idiot doesn't have any concept of what a real man is."

Naima grinned. "Insensitive boars come in all shapes and sizes. Excuse me a moment while I go call Ray." She rose and stepped down the hall for a little privacy.

Ivy returned with the teacups on a tray and set it on the table. "I can't believe Frank did this." She handed a cup to Stella.

"Morgan gave me a heads up. I shouldn't have opened the image." Stella took a sip.

Trish seethed quietly. She would be telling Derek the name of the inconsiderate idiot and Alpha team would likely be paying this Isaksson a little visit. _No one messes with our extended SEAL family without repercussions._

Feeling a little more in control, Stella peered at Trish. "Thank you for coming over. I'm fine now … I don't want to keep you from your home."

Taking a seat, Trish dropped a sugar cube into her tea and stirred. "Not going anywhere. Family sticks together. This is what we do. We support one another when things go sideways."

"But Clay and I aren't even married … how am I, family?" Stella gaped at Trish.

"Doesn't matter. You are important to Clay. He loves you. I can see it in his lovesick, puppy eyes every time he gazes at you. He's over the moon for you, and that is what makes you family."

Stella felt like an impostor … an interloper … she didn't deserve their kindness after how she left things with Clay. If Trish and Naima found out, they would surely hate her and become indignant she failed to tell them she broke Clay's heart.

Conflicting emotions swirled as an internal war raged. _I can't live with Clay always being in danger … but I don't want to live without him either._

* * *

 _ **Mexican Marine Headquarters – TOC**_

Ray hung up and turned to the others who peered at him with a mix of anticipation and barely veiled anger … he just didn't know if it was directed at Doza or Stella since they all were pissed off at Stella's timing for dumping the kid. "One of the professors at the university sent it to her. Frank Isaksson."

Jason's brows knitted together. "Isn't that one of the guys who cowered in the bathroom at the Farris Gallery?"

Sonny smirked. "Yeah, he's the asshole who wouldn't give Clay his tie to gag the criminal. Clay said Frank about pissed himself when the kid demanded the tie."

"Why in the hell did he send that to her?" Brock plopped into a chair and scratched Cerberus' ears.

"I'm more interested in where he found the damned thing." Trent pushed off the wall and began pacing as he shifted his gaze to the IT guy.

"What are we gonna do about this? He can't get away with doing something so crappy," Lisa said even though she was still angry with Stella.

"Um … excuse me …" Lester dared to interrupt the team. Their heated glares unnerved him.

Everyone turned to the information tech and Jason said, "What?"

"I found the site where the photo is posted. It's on a darknet site. They must've gotten the image from another source and then uploaded after I scrubbed it from all the other sites."

Mandy moved to the computer. "Show me which site."

Lester tapped several keys and loaded the page.

Her face became impassive as the implications ran in her head. "I need to make a call. People don't just happen onto this site. The IIB uses it for recruiting westerners who have been vetted by one of their members."

"How do you know? And what is IIB?" Jason inquired.

"The International Islamic Brotherhood. They are a newer group who follow most the tenants of ISIS, but they are more covert and seek to infiltrate western countries and destroy them from within by gaining political power rather blowing up buildings. It is much more insidious and less visible. Changes are made slower … countries will be like frogs who jump into cold water and as the temperature rises don't realize they are boiling to death until it is too late.

"A colleague was working on a target package and needed my help with a few things. She was looking into recruiters who are using universities around the country as a prime hunting ground for impressionable youth who can be indoctrinated."

Mandy pulled out her phone and dialed, knowing she would be waking Izza Alvi, but at this point, she didn't care. When Izza answered she briefly laid out the situation, asked a few questions, but mostly listened. Her face morphed into disbelief as Izza continued to speak.

Hanging up, she faced the guys. "As incredible as this sounds … Professor Isaksson is on Izza's list of possible recruiters. A low man in the organization but is suspected to be responsible for enlisting over a dozen people who have already been brought in for interrogation."

"Will she be rounding him up? If so … I'm certain Alpha Team would be willing to help," Eric said.

"Izza is going to call me back in a few hours after she checks on a few items. I'll make the suggestion."

Ray listened and then said, "So this isn't related to Doza … our identities have not been compromised, and our families are safe?"

"Appears that way," Mandy replied.

Jason exhaled heavily as his worry for his children lessened slightly. Though, until they took down Doza for good, he wouldn't rest easy.

"Alright. Well, I believe everyone can go back to bed. We'll reconvene tomorrow and refocus on Doza," Eric suggested.

Nodding Jason agreed. It wouldn't do for his men to be overtired … as it was, they were stressed by Clay's condition and the kid would need them refreshed tomorrow when he started asking questions.

The group broke up, most seeking their beds, but Jason stopped Lisa as she turned to head to the area set up as the infirmary. "I'll stay the rest of the night with Spenser."

Understanding arguing with Hayes would be fruitless, Lisa gave him a nod and changed direction.

Ray halted. "You need sleep too, J."

"The recliner will do for me tonight." Jason leaned his back on the wall. "Did you tell Naima they broke up or that Clay doesn't remember the past year or so?"

"No. From Naima's description Stella is in terrible shape, so she and Trish are going to stay the night with her. We don't know if Clay will wake tomorrow and recall everything, so I didn't believe it would benefit anyone by relaying that information."

"Agreed." Yawning, Jason pushed off the wall. "If Isaksson isn't part of IIB, we're gonna pay him a visit when we get home. What he did is indefensible and immoral on so many levels."

Ray grinned. "I hear ya, brother and concur. A bit of unit justice is in order." He stood in place and watched as Jason headed for the kid's room, noting the weight of the world on his friend's shoulders.

* * *

 ** _Mexican Marine Headquarters – Infirmary_**

Sunlight streamed in the east window, shifting as the sun rose higher in the sky, illuminating Clay's face causing him to stir. He no longer felt cold, but his entire body ached, especially his arm and abdomen. After inhaling deeply, wincing as his chest resisted, he blinked open his eyes, squinted, and turned his head in the opposite direction to avoid the brightness.

His gaze landed on the figure in the recliner. _Why is the illustrious Master Chief Hayes sleeping in my room?_ Glancing down, he noted his left arm in a cast and racked his brain as to how it happened, but came up empty. He shifted, needing to relieve the pressure on his back and moaned as his right hand moved to his gut.

Pushing down the light blanket and pulling up the hospital gown, his eyes rounded in surprise to find he was nude except for the gown, catheterized, and there was a long incision held together with a long row of black, precisely-tied knots just below his ribcage. When his door opened, Clay yanked the covers up, the move causing pain, but avoiding embarrassment when a vaguely familiar woman entered.

Lisa grinned as she averted her eyes while he tugged up the sheet, happy to discover Clay awake and to find out from his nurse that his fever broke in the wee hours of the morning. "Good morning, Clay." The confusion in his blue eyes reminded her that Clay didn't remember the past year and the friendship they developed, which dimmed her smile.

Perplexed, Clay's eyes moved between Hayes and Davis. His mouth cottony, he attempted to speak, his words came out raspy and haltingly through his irritated throat. "Why … are … you … here?"

Rousing when Lisa greeted Clay, Jason moved the lever to lower the leg rest of the recliner and sat up. He spoke when Lisa turned her eyes to him, communicating she was unsure what to say. "Are you in Virginia?"

Focusing on Hayes, Clay nodded. "Why … keep … asking?"

Lisa moved to the bedside table and picked up the cup. "I'll go grab some ice chips … will help your throat." She hurried out of the room, intent on giving Jason time alone with Clay now that he seemed more coherent.

Jason remained silent for some time as he weighed his words, also uncertain how to proceed. He raked a hand through his hair and was saved from saying anything more when Shelia entered carrying a styrofoam cup and went directly to Clay's bed.

"Well, lookie who is awake and not feverish. Ice will soothe your throat. I'm Shelia, your day nurse." She spooned in a small amount, and as it melted, she turned to Jason. "If you would step out for a moment, I need to examine his wound."

"I'll wait outside. Holler if you need me to come in." Jason pulled out his phone as he exited, intending to call Ray. He wanted to let the others know Clay woke again and the fever broke, happy to impart positive news for once, but he found he didn't need to as he spotted Sonny leading the others down the hall. He grinned … reinforcements … together they would tackle telling Clay about the gap in his memory.

Inside the room, Clay asked, "Can … you … remove … catheter?"

After gloving up, Shelia moved the thin blanket down, maintaining his dignity as she noted the hiked-up gown. Shelia inspected his wound for any infectious seepage and inflammation, smiling when she found none. She lowered the fabric, covering his abdomen. "One of the reasons I asked your buddy to leave the room. You can begin using the urinal until you have the strength to make it to the restroom."

Clay clenched his jaw when the nurse deftly removed the tubing from his sensitive body part. The stinging lasted only a couple of moments, and by the time he recovered his breath, Shelia had covered him up again and strode towards the adjoining toilet room to dump the contents and discard the bag and tubing.

Exiting the bathroom, Shelia called out, "You can come back in."

Clay's mouth gaped as the door opened and not only Hayes but the four remaining members of Bravo team entered his room. _Why are they here? What is going on? Where is Brian?_ Hayes cut off his thoughts.

Jason stepped to the bed. "You have questions. We have answers."

Clay nodded, since speaking still hurt, but so did his entire body.

Placing a pillow across Clay's midsection, Shelia said, "I'm going to elevate the head of your bed. Hold this close and tell me if you hurt too much."

As the angle in which his body folded increased, so did his pain level, and Clay attempted to hold in his groan.

"Stop. He's in pain. The kid is hiding it again. He needs more painkillers before you move him any further," Trent said as he stepped forward.

Shelia released the button, immobilizing the bed and stared at Trent. "Are you certain?"

Trent snorted. "Yes. I know how to read his signs."

Slack-mouthed, Clay stared at Trent. _How did he know? What signs?_

"What is your pain level?" Shelia asked.

"Don't lie to her, Kid." Trent crossed his arms and cocked an eye at Spenser.

"Five," Clay downplayed.

"Spenser?" Trent challenged.

"That there is a tall tale, Goldilocks. Betcha it is more like seven," Sonny drawled.

"Eight is more likely," Jason added.

"Could be as high as nine," Brock ventured.

"I'm with Jace on this one. Eight sounds about right," Ray chimed in.

"Agreed. Shelia, dose him for eight. No sense the kid should be in agony," Trent directed.

Clay's eyes darted to each man as they spoke. _How the hell do they know it is eight. And why are they talking like they know me? What's up with them calling me Kid and Goldilocks?_

Shelia nodded and left the room to obtain the medication. She had learned from Dr. Irving to listen to Trent. The team medic was held in high esteem by the doctor, and Irving often consulted Trent regarding Clay's reactions. She also discovered him to be a staunch advocate for the young man, and while Spenser had been hallucinating with fever, a gentle man who tenderly cared for his teammate.

As Clay opened his mouth to comment, Jason shook his head and declared, "We'll wait until your meds are on board."

"Won't he be too muddled?" Sonny queried.

"No." Trent pulled a chair around and took a seat.

"You sure? He doesn't do too well on pain meds." Sonny shifted to the sink in search of the emesis basin just in case the kid reacted. They never knew if he would puke, become confused, hallucinate, or sleep when taking medication.

"Doc and I adjusted the dosage over the past few days. Believe we have it worked out now. He should be fine … at least for a half hour or so." Trent eyed the monitors getting a baseline. He promised Jason to keep close watch of the vital signs so they could stop if their explanation increased the stress on Clay's weakened body.

Clay narrowed his eyes to a slit as they continued to talk as if he were not right in front of them and as if they knew him well … which they couldn't. He only rolled with Bravo for one op and believed Hayes would beat the crap out of him after he schwacked Samir. An insidious thought entered his head as his focus shifted to his stomach and then to his busted arm. _Perhaps they did beat the shit out of me … some sort of delayed retribution._

Now leery, Clay glanced around the room and noted it didn't appear to be a regular hospital room … like it was cobbled together in a hurry. It had no earmarks of being a base hospital. At least not on any base he had ever visited. _They keep asking if I'm in Virginia. Why? Maybe I'm not. If not, where the hell am I? I wish Brian were here … wherever_ here _is._

Shelia returned and administered the medication. "This will take the edge off. Let's keep you at this angle for a bit, and a little later we will try sitting up fully. If you tolerate that, we'll see about trying standing for a few moments."

Clay focused on the nurse as she spoke. "Where … am … I?"

Smiling at Clay, Shelia responded, "I'll be back to check on you in a while." Her gaze flicked to Hayes. Dr. Irving said to allow this team to answer all of her patient's questions.

Catching the direction of her eyes, Clay turned to Hayes, becoming a bit irritated no one answered his questions. "Where?"

As the nurse slipped out, Jason said, "You're in Mexico City."

Clay's eyes widened. "Why?"

Running a hand along his jaw to the back of his neck, Jason decided to bite the bullet and tell Spenser. As team leader the duty fell to him. "This will be hard for you to comprehend, but I'm gonna tell you outright what is going on. Listen without interrupting, and after I'm done, you can ask anything you want, and we'll do our best to answer you."

The men of Bravo all encircled the bed, this would be incredibly difficult for Clay, and they all wanted to be close to show their brotherly support for their youngest team member.

"First off, you are a member of Bravo." Jason expected the puzzlement expressed in Clay's features and forged ahead. "You have been for a little over a year now. You were injured, quite severely, I'll let Trent give you the lowdown in a bit, but suffice for now, you fell two stories and struck your head.

"It appears you have lost memories of the last year. The doc is unable to determine if your amnesia is temporary or permanent, but I want you to understand without a doubt we are your brothers whether you remember us or not. We will be here for you as you recover. You are family … and we take care of our own."

Jason paused to allow Clay to digest the information.

Clay's head shook back and forth as he rejected what Hayes said. _This is implausible. I'm not on Bravo team and I didn't lose a year._ Clay glanced at his arm, then to the pillow covering his belly before returning to Hayes. "This … is a … hoax or … part … of … my … SERE … evolution."

"Not part of your training evolution. You graduated in a three-way tie for first place. Bravo had first pick, and we chose you." Jason held Spenser's direct gaze.

His throat screaming with every word spoken, Clay only said, "Brian?" The fleeting inscrutable emotion crossing Hayes' face caused Clay's gut to roll as he forced out, "Where … is … Brian?"

Ray laid a hand on Clay's shoulder, taking over for Jason. "He's gone."

Not understanding, Clay swallowed trying to wet his fiery throat as his blue eyes shifted to Senior Chief Perry. "Where?"

Deciding a simple, direct statement would be best, Ray said, "I'm sorry to tell you this, brother, but Brian died in a training accident about a month after you rolled with us while you were in Green Team. His chute didn't open."

Slammed hard by the intel, Clay's heart rate increased as he inhaled sharply and too deeply. Pain seared his chest, and he couldn't discern if it was physical or emotional pain … likely both. The agony caused him to pant too fast.

Ray squeezed lightly. "Slow it down … sniper breathing." Ray demonstrated, inhaling, holding, and exhaling to help Spenser calm his rapid breaths and speeding pulse rate.

Clay's eyes shut as he accepted the truth of what Hayes and Perry imparted. _No one would be cruel enough to invent something like this, and my wounds are real … not something which would be allowed to happen during an instruction cycle._

Venturing to reopen his eyes, Clay scanned the men around him, noting apprehension in their expressions. He began to wonder what type of relationship he developed with each of them in the past year. Insecurity grew, and he felt at a disadvantage. _They know me, seemingly well enough to realize when I attempted to hide my pain, but I don't know them. They are strangers to me._

"Ice?" Wanting to ask a long question, Clay needed to quench the flames in his throat before endeavoring to communicate.

Trent nodded to Brock who stood closest to the cup. "Only one spoonful for now."

Brock complied, offering his brother a small relief from what must be a painful effort each time he spoke. His eyes landed on the still raw spots where the hemp noose abraded Clay's skin. "Better?"

Clay's head swam with an influx of inquiries as the icy liquid doused the fire, at least long enough for him to say, "Yeah, … why am I … in Mexico … and … what … happened?"

Jason gave Clay a straightforward explanation of why Bravo came to Mexico. After witnessing the lowering of Clay's eyelids, Jason planned to stop with the pertinent details, what they had done thus far in their ineffectual attempt to capture Doza to shut down his illegal activities, including how things went sideways in Hércules and how Clay saved their asses with his imaginative solution, but Sonny interrupted.

"Your injuries are my fault," Sonny blurted out, anxiety and guilt weighing heavily on his soul.

The impact of the impassioned exclamation caused Clay's brows to rise as he zeroed in on the implacable pipehitter.

"Sonny—" Jason began, but Sonny cut him off.

"Okay, our fault." Sonny peered at Clay, wanting to get this out in the open. "I failed you. I should've used my head … didn't … and you nearly died. I took you to a local bar, let you become too intoxicated, and didn't stop Doza's men from abducting us, beating the shit out of you, or prevent the sick bastard Gonzales from impaling you with the fucking hook and putting a noose around your neck. Ray saved your life … shot the rope, splitting it in two before it snapped your neck, but you fell two stories and suffered a head injury in addition to the other injuries."

Clay's face scrunched up as he listened and his right hand went to his stomach. _Drunk? Taken? Impaled?_ His hand moved to his burning throat. _Almost hung?_ The scenario sounded inconceivable … top tier operators didn't get abducted or shitfaced during a mission. He checked the veracity of Sonny's words by studying the other guys. He stopped on Hayes. "True?"

"Not entirely. The blame ultimately lies with me. Sonny only took you outside the wire based on my instructions. Alana's and Adam's deaths affected my judgment on this op."

Though the imperturbable and infallible Jason Hayes just admitted to making an error, as inconceivable as that seemed to Clay, his mind fixated on the mention of two more deaths. He didn't know who Alana was, but he knew one Adam … Master Chief Seaver. "Alana? Adam?" Clay croaked out.

A flash of pain surged through Jason at Alana's name … her loss still so raw. He also worried he might spark renewed guilt and grief in Clay when he explained Adam's death. He decided to gloss over the details and only give an abbreviated version. "My wife, Alana, died in a car accident. During her funeral, we were spun up for a rescue op in Mumbai. I stood down, and Adam stepped in for me. He didn't make it home … made the ultimate sacrifice to save the team from an s-vest."

Jason halted as Clay's breath hitched, he paled, and his pulse jumped up which impelled Ray to guide the kid through breathing once again. _Damn, I hate hurting the kid. How is the news about Stella going to impact him?_

Trent caught Jason's gaze and his tone impressed on everyone that Clay had reached his physical limit for today. "That's enough for now. The rest can wait."

The cause indeterminate, a deep-seated sense of guilt bloomed and squeezed Clay's chest making breathing an imposing task. Zapped of the little energy he possessed, his eyes flickered closed several times. As Clay internalized that he lost not only his best friend, but also his mentor, a year of his life, and he might be permanently incapacitated, many questions rolled around in his head. The last one before a drug-induced sleep claimed him was … _why would Hayes and Quinn allow me to be inebriated to the point of being incapacitated on such an important mission?_

Noting the change in respiration and lax body as Clay's head lolled to the side and hand slipped to the mattress, Trent lowered the bed to make the kid more comfortable while sleeping. Amazed Clay remained awake for as long as he did, Trent stated the obvious. "He's out."

"The kid seemed to take it all in." Ray removed his hand from Clay's shoulder.

"We skirted the Stella issue," Brock interjected, wondering if he should've brought Cerberus with him this morning. His dog established an indelible connection with Clay after the two bonded over bullets.

"He had enough shocks for now. Brian's and Adam's deaths both hit him hard." Jason blew out a breath as he recalled how Clay had pushed them all away and internalized his grief after Mumbai.

They all nodded as Trent said, "The kid is gonna sleep for a few hours at least. Time for everyone to grab breakfast."

Sonny moved to the chair. "No. I'm staying here."

"You need to eat," Jason stated.

"Then bring me something back, because I'm NOT leaving Boy Wonder. If he wakes, he needs a friendly face." Sonny sat, and his expression implied they would have a fight on their hands if anyone tried to make him leave.

To lighten the moment, because inappropriate humor and laughter, especially during the worst times, was an effective weapon to shield themselves from the crippling anxiety that came with combat, deployments, and intense situations such as this, Ray joked, "Your ugly mug isn't what I'd call friendly."

The guys chuckled as Sonny scowled and retorted, "I'll have you know … this face," he waved his hand around his face, "is idolized and coveted by many women."

Brock smirked. "So long as you are shoving bills in their G-strings."

The guys devolved into an irreverent razzing session until Shelia returned to do vitals check on Clay and everyone except Sonny headed out to the cantina to eat.

* * *

 _ **Two** **Days Later  
Mexican Marine Headquarters – Infirmary**_

Clay leaned heavily on Sonny, allowing the man to take most of his weight, unsure if he could make it back to bed. The ten steps to the bathroom already exhausted him, and if he could, he would lie down right here on the floor to sleep. But he couldn't so he took another laborious step forward as he pressed the pillow to his belly with his non-casted arm since the broken wing was in a sling and useless.

"You got this. Only three more to go," Sonny encouraged. The kid was a trooper, never complaining about the breathing or leg exercises the nurses incessantly harped on him doing. Blowing the little metal ball up in the spirometer, doing the inhalation and exhalation exercises caused the kid pain but was necessary to improve his lung function. Likewise, the short walks and the leg flexes were important to prevent blood clots and reduce inflammation in his lower extremities.

Clay grimaced, coming to a halt as his abdomen spasmed causing him to bend over. He would've face planted without Quinn's strong grip on his elbow and Trent holding him up from behind with a special gait belt positioned low on his hips to prevent putting stress on his incision.

"Inhale. Hold, one, two, three. Exhale," Ray chanted to Clay from across the room … something he had done a lot of in the past forty-eight hours.

On empty, unable to go further, his knees buckling, Clay moaned, but he never hit the ground as Jason appeared in front of him and slid his hands around him, essentially hugging him and keeping him upright. "Got you, Kid. Not gonna let you fall."

Cerberus whined, but stayed put … he didn't want to be a trip hazard, though he wanted to be close to his boy. The last two nights he got to sleep at the foot of Clay's bed, preferring it to his pad in their hooch.

Brock patted Cerb. "Good boy. Clay will be back in bed soon, and you can join him again."

Cerb wagged his tail and laid down to wait … impatiently.

With the assistance of Jason, Trent, and Sonny, Clay attained his bed, rested his head on a pillow, moaned as he shifted his butt to the middle of the mattress, and allowed Ray to toss the covers over his bare legs. At least now he wore a loose pair of lightweight shorts under his indigo blue hospital gown.

Clay closed his eyes and sighed, irritated at his inability to move on his own and wishing for independence, but that day was still somewhere in the future. He listened as the idle chatter around him touched on a myriad of topics. He appreciated their help, but also the way they treated him … not like an invalid.

He thought about the last two days. He had been in and out a lot, sleeping for a few hours then waking for a short interval. Every time he woke, at least one if not two or three of the team were in his room. When he was conscious, they answered all inquiries he put to them … well, almost all.

One question which no one would answer is why he was allowed to get drunk in the first place. Each time he brought it up, the subject changed, or someone recalled an errand to be run, or pretended they received a text or call and stepped from the room. It was becoming increasingly frustrating not to know why.

The closest he got to an answer was from Jason when he said, _'Not the best way to handle things, but I wanted Sonny to loosen your tongue so you would tell him what was bugging you since we arrived in Mexico.'_ Hayes didn't elaborate, and Sonny only shook his head when he asked if he told him that night.

Not knowing intrigued him … he wondered what could've been in his mind to make his team leader suggest to another teammate to ply him with alcohol to get him intoxicated so he would open up. As far as he could recall, he had never been distracted on an operation before … so this would be a first. Clay wished he could remember what was so important he created an issue for the entire team. And he felt the weight on his shoulders. Whatever it was, that one night of imbibing excessive spirits impacted his whole team.

Being a member of Bravo still left him in awe. They invested in him, and apparently from all the stories they shared with him, he fit in and bonded with them. He had a family … something he found reduced his insecurity in the dark of night.

The bright voice of his nurse, a five-foot-four, brown-haired, brown-eyed, ivory-skinned beauty intruded on his ruminations as she greeted everyone in his room. Grinning as he opened his eyes, speaking no longer causing him pain, Clay said, "Morning, Stella."

Shelia blanched. She caught the whispers from the guys in the hallway and understood who Stella was … an ignorant woman who dumped this impressive man. Recovering, she said, "Name's Shelia, but I forgive you for forgetting." She moved her hand from behind her back. "Even brought you a little treat. Doc says you can start on clear liquids today." She placed the half cup of clarified chicken broth on the table within Clay's reach.

Clay stared at her. _I know her name is Shelia … why did I call her Stella?_ He squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of nausea overtook him. He gagged, and although he didn't see them, at least three sets of hands moved to assist him. Shelia likely held the emesis basin, Trent helped hold his pillow across his abdomen to keep him from pulling his sutures out, and either Sonny or Jason braced his shoulders … a process repeated several times in the past days.

His head pounded as he dry-heaved, only a little bile coming up since he only consumed ice chips. Once he finished, a cool rag wiped his face and neck … he never opened his lids to determine which one of the guys did that, but suspected the hands either belonged to Jason or Trent.

Flashes of a woman's face came to him. She possessed brown hair and eyes but didn't appear similar to Shelia. She smiled and laughed in one moment, and the next her eyes filled with tears, and she sobbed. Slowly opening his eyes, finding Trent with the cloth, Clay exhaled heavily, reaching for any memory from his past year. "Do I know someone named Stella? There is … I can't describe … an image … a gut feeling … like she might be important to me."

Sonny dropped his eyes to the floor.

Brock shifted his gaze to the window.

Ray peered up at the dingy ceiling tiles.

Trent's hand stilled as he wrung out the washrag.

Cerberus hopped up on the foot of the bed … sensing his boy would need him, and laid his head on Clay's right thigh.

Jason sighed and met Clay's inquisitive gaze. No longer able to put off the inevitable, their idyllic Indian Summer just ended, and the icy chill of winter descended in the room. _Damn, I wish the kid was stronger before he asked. I don't want to rip out his heart. The period we insulated him is over, and I hope this doesn't break him._

.

 ** _To be continued in AI-J ..._**

* * *

 **AN:** Hope you enjoyed this incredibly long story. My goal was to write short chapter stories to give my muse a break from time to time from my novels, but I'm learning I just can't seem to write short/simple stories. I also usually don't break with canon, but my version of events in Mexico makes this more AU since with Clay's injuries I'm elongating their timeline in Mexico and Clay can't participate in the show's version as I move this forward in AI-J. Please forgive typos ... tried to catch them all but they are sneaky little things and still hide from me after the fifth or sixth round of editing.

Drop me a review and let me know what you thought ... I appreciate and love hearing from my readers.

Inputs welcome for J and K. Contributions for I include:

\- Ice from Guest127, IndyElora, Liz, Lunary, NYPDathenareagan, Princess Of The Kingdom, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Iceberg from Lunary  
\- Iceland from Guest127, Liz, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Icicle/icicles from Liz, Victoria-Annxx  
\- ICU from HoneyPear  
\- Icy from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Idea from HoneyPear, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Identity/identities from Jessiness5134  
\- Idiosyncratic from Jessiness5134  
\- Idiot from Liz  
\- Idle from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Idolize/idol from Jessiness5134, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Igloo from Crazykids121, Liz, NYPDathenareagan  
\- Ignorant from Crazykids121  
\- Ignore from HoneyPear  
\- Iguana from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Ill/illness from Crazykids121, IndyElora, Juniper, Princess Of The Kingdom, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Illegal from Crazykids121, Jessiness5134, Liz  
\- Illiterate from Crazykids121  
\- Imagination from Ildeira  
\- Imagine from Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Immature/immaturity from Crazykids121, Jessiness5134, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Immobile/immobilized/immobilization from IndyElora, Jessiness5134, Juniper  
\- Immoral from Jessiness5134, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Immune from Jessiness5134, Juniper, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Impact from Deanaholic1, IndyElora, Juniper  
\- Impaled from Chgrgal  
\- Impatient from Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Impenetrable from Elise Deschat  
\- Imply/implication from Lunary  
\- Impose from Lunary  
\- Impossible from Ildeira  
\- Impotent from Crazykids121  
\- Impress/impressed/impression from Victoria-Annxx, Lunary  
\- Impulse/impulsive/impulsively from Jessiness5134, Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Inappropriate from Crazykids121  
\- Incident from Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Incision from floopdeedoopdee  
\- Incompetent/incompetence from Jessiness5134  
\- Increase from Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Indefensible from Jessiness5134  
\- Indefinite/indefinitely from Jessiness5134  
\- Independence from Jessiness5134  
\- India from Lunary, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Indian Summer from Lunary  
\- Indigo from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Indonesia from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Infected/infection from Guest127, Ildeira, IndyElora, Jessiness5134, Juniper, Lunary, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Infiltration/infiltrating from Ildeira  
\- Inflammation from Juniper, Lunary  
\- Inflammatory from Crazykids121  
\- Influenza from Chgrgal, IndyElora  
\- Information from Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Inhale/inhalation from IndyElora, Juniper  
\- Inject/injected/injection from AeroWright, Jessiness5134, Liz, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Injury/injuries/injured from Chgrgal, Jessiness5134, Liz  
\- Inquiry from Jessiness5134  
\- Insane from Crazykids121, Lunary  
\- Insects from Guest127, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Insecure/insecurity from Crazykids121, Liz, Lunary  
\- Insensibility from Elise Deschat  
\- Insensitive from Crazykids121  
\- Inside from Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Insight from Lunary  
\- Insomnia from HoneyPear, Juniper, Lunary, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Instance from Lunary  
\- Instill from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Instinct from Lunary, Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Insubordination/insubordinate from Liz, Lunary  
\- Insufferable from Crazykids121  
\- Insufficient from Crazykids121  
\- Insulation/insulate from Liz  
\- Insulting from Crazykids121  
\- Insurmountable from Lunary  
\- Intel from HoneyPear  
\- Intense from Jessiness5134  
\- Intensive care from Juniper  
\- Intentional/intentionally from floopdeedoopdee  
\- Interact from Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Internal from Deanaholic1, floopdeedoopdee, IndyElora, Jessiness5134, Princess Of The Kingdom, Victoria-Annxx  
\- International from Princess Of The Kingdom  
\- Intestines from floopdeedoopdee, Jessiness5134, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Intubation/Intubated from Ally, IndyElora, Juniper, Solstice321  
\- Invasive from floopdeedoopdee  
\- Invested from Lunary  
\- Iris from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Irrational from Jessiness5134  
\- Irresponsible from IndyElora  
\- Irritate/irritating/irritable/irratation from Ildeira, IndyElora, Jessiness5134, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Islam from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Isolated/isolation from Liz, Lunary  
\- Issue/issues from Victoria-Annxx  
\- IT from Ildeira  
\- Itch/itchy from Crazykids121, Perenne Allegro, Victoria-Annxx  
\- IV from Guest127, HoneyPear, IndyElora, Juniper  
\- Ivory from Ildeira, IndyElora, NetMyne01, Shellymae88  
\- Ivy from Guest127, Victoria-Annxx


	10. Jilted, Judgments, and Justice

**Jilted, Judgment Calls and Justice**

* * *

 ** _Mexican Marine Headquarters - Infirmary_**

Jason wanted to break it easy to the kid, but no matter how he said it, learning about Stella would hurt Clay, so he got right to the point. "Stella was your girlfriend. You two broke up right before coming to Mexico."

Clay scrunched his face, trying to remember, but came up blank. "Who jilted who?"

 _Just like the kid to go right to the jugular of the matter._ Jason raked a hand through his hair. "She broke up with you."

His mind piecing other details together the guys shared with him, Clay turned his eyes to Sonny … a man who he perceived carried guilt about what happened to him. He tested his suspicion with a statement. "We went out drinking because of me. I'm the one to blame for what occurred."

Sonny stood and met Clay's gaze. "Now hold your horses there, little jocky. That ain't the whole truth. This isn't on you. Yeah sure, you was hurtin and wantin to drown your sorrows … but I shouldn't have let you drink so much nor taken you outside the wire. You could've gotten juiced up right here."

Jason shook his head. "The fault lies with me. I made a bad judgment call and asked Sonny to take you out because you were down in the dumps and not opening up to us."

Switching his eyes to Jason, Clay couldn't believe the confession coming from the infamous Hayes. "You told Sonny to get me drunk and put our lives at risk?"

The disbelief and condemnation in Clay's eyes burned a hole in Jason. "Yes. Not my smartest move. I'm sorry … you deserved better from me."

Ray eyed Spenser, studying him, somewhat concerned about his reaction to the news of Stella … or rather lack of reaction. The kid seemed more upset by Jason's decision than the fact Stella dumped him. But then he realized Clay didn't possess the memories of his heartache and must be unsettled Jason made such a terrible judgment and jeopardized his safety by sending him out unprotected just to get him to talk.

Clay turned his gaze to the window as he juggled conflicting thoughts. Not truly knowing them … only what they told him, Clay couldn't decide whether the apology was sincere and what would possess his leader to put him at such a risk. He wished Brian and Adam were alive so he could talk to someone he actually remembered and trusted. He muttered under his breath, "This sucks."

"Big time," Brock said having overheard Clay. He rose and moved into the kid's line of vision. "Just know, we are here for you. We've all had a rough year … but in the end … we've all come to rely more on our brothers. Give us time to re-earn your trust. We won't fail you again."

Clay studied the tall man with curly black hair as his hand sought out the head of Cerberus who inched up further on his bed. Brock rarely talked, usually letting the others explain things to him. But the dog … Cerberus … belonged to him, and dogs were a good judge of character and Brock treated the pup well. Not sure what to say, Clay gave him a slight nod.

Mandy stuck her head in the room. "Jason, we have a potential lead on Doza's whereabouts, but we need to act fast."

Hating to leave the kid at the moment, wanting to ensure they were still good, or at least he had a chance of regaining his trust, but desiring to get the bastard who ordered the hit on Spenser, he responded to Ellis, "Be right there."

Placing a hand on Clay's shoulder, noting he jerked slightly, Jason said, "We'll talk more later." He pivoted and headed out when Clay didn't acknowledge him. As much as this disconcerted him, Jason put it on the back burner, needing to focus on getting Doza.

Brock peered at Cerberus. "Stay." Shifting his gaze to Clay he grinned. "Don't know why I just told him that … he'd rather be with you than me lately. Catch you later." He strode out after Jason.

Sonny glanced at Ray, wishing he could go with them, but he was still grounded. After the 2IC said bye to Clay, Sonny said, "Get payback for us."

"You got it." Ray jogged out after patting Sonny's shoulder.

Trent set the damp cloth down which he had been holding all this time, it was now twisted tight. He didn't like the tension which built after the turn of events of telling the kid about Stella. None of them had foreseen this outcome. All they had focused on was Clay being hurt by Stella's actions … not creating doubt in Clay regarding their leader.

He directed his comment to Sonny. "Make sure he tries the broth and if he can keep it down, see if you can round up some jello if Clay wants something more."

Sonny nodded as Trent left. With only him, Clay, and Cerb in the room, Sonny sighed before he broached the elephant in the room. "Jason's only human, though people tend to put him on a pedestal. I'd follow him any day and twice on Sunday. Alana's death jumbled him up but good. Both you and he came into this mission not quite on point. Don't think we told you, but they knew each other since they were kids. Alana saved him from drowning." He chuckled. "Funny Jace became a SEAL."

His countenance changed, becoming somber. "Jason's world was totally rocked when she died. We were spun up at Alana's funeral which is why Adam stepped up to lead on the Mumbai mission. Jason carries the weight of guilt for that one too though we all believe he did the right thing in standing down. His kids needed him."

Shifting gears again, Sonny said, "You don't recall, but after Echo team was killed, Jason wouldn't rest until he got justice for them. The same is true now. Doza will rue the day he put a hit out on you and posted the photo of you hanging from the hook on the internet.

"We might not be too happy with Stella right now for ripping your heart out, but no one hurts anyone in our family. Her seeing that damned picture sent her for a loop according to Naima. Jason will not rest until Doza is brought to justice for what he did to you and to Stella."

Clay turned to gape at Sonny. So much new information in Sonny's monolog, he didn't know what to address first. Sheila entering saved him from having to choose as she approached him and lifted the cup of soup.

"Do you think you can stomach a bit of this?" Sheila smiled and moved the soup closer.

"I'll try." Clay allowed Sheila to do all the work, moving his joints to feed himself seemed impossible at the moment. As the warm liquid slid down his throat, he hoped his gut wouldn't revolt and attempt to expel the broth.

Twenty minutes later, his eyelids sagging and the cup empty, Clay rested his head on the pillow and yawned. Unable to resist the pull of sleep, he drifted off without ever speaking to Sonny about what he learned.

* * *

 _ **Virginia – University – Lecture Hall**_

Frank Isaksson jumped off the corner of the desk he was sitting on as he gave his lecture, startled as six soldiers in full tactical gear and carrying assault weapons burst into his classroom and headed down two ramps towards him.

John Maverick, known as Full Metal and Alpha One, bellowed, "Everyone stay in your seats and keep your hands visible. Professor Isaksson, hands where we can see them."

"What the hell is the meaning of this? We are not a police state. You have no jurisdiction … no right to barge into my class and demand anything," Frank shouted.

Following the SEALs into the room, Sergeant James Fox of the local SWAT team, said, "They do." He recalled this man as one of the two men who hid in the bathroom during the heist at the Farris Gallery. He got a bad vibe off the jerk back then but only believed he was a coward. Finding out he was wanted for recruiting students to the terrorist cell called the International Islam Brotherhood, angered James, especially after Isaksson bad-mouthed Clay Spenser, the man who saved everyone that night.

The students stared wide-eyed at the soldiers and the plethora of police officers and FBI agents invading their space.

Derek, Alpha Two, moved in close to Frank, a sneer coming to his face. He liked Stella, even though the young woman hurt Clay, His wife Trish, explained to him how hard it was for those who stay behind and worry about the men they loved … and Stella was frightened and unsure she could hack a life of wondering if the man she loved would return. Not many women possessed the fortitude to live with a constant anvil over their heads, ready to destroy them.

Grabbing one wrist, Derek jerked Isaksson around while his teammates covered him. "You're under arrest. I do hope you try to resist. I'd love to knock you on your ass for what you sent to Stella." Pulling the other arm behind Frank's back, he slipped on the zip-tie cuffs when the man cooperated, but yanked them painfully taut.

"OW! Brutality. I didn't resist. What are the charges?" Frank demanded.

"Domestic terrorism," John stated. He nodded to his men, and they hustled Isaksson out as the SWAT sergeant addressed the students.

James said, "Please remain in your seats and quiet. Officers will be escorting you one-by-one to agents who will interview you before you are released."

* * *

 _ **Eight Weeks Later  
Mexican Marine Headquarters - TOC**_

Weeks dragged by, and every time they believed they had a bead on Doza, he slipped away. Jason became frustrated being away from his kids so long. Captain Harrington had said they would stay in Mexico until they got Doza, but Jason never imagined every opportunity to snag the guy would go sideways.

The more he contemplated the situation, the more he believed they must have a mole in their midst … because quite frankly, Doza couldn't be this damned lucky. He blew out a breath and raked both hands through his hair.

Jason surveyed his joyless team. The only bright spot was Spenser had recovered remarkably fast. This morning, Doctor Irving signed off on Clay joining them for the next op … and Trent concurred. After a small setback, a bout of jaundice seven weeks ago, Clay's physical health improved by leaps and bounds.

Not everything went the kid's way. Clay still had not recovered any of his memories on his own. The past year remained a blank slate for the kid. The only thing positive about that is the kid didn't pine for Stella. In fact, he had flirted outrageously with Nurse Sheila, flashing his boyish smile and bright blues at her every opportunity he got. When Sheila left, they all witnessed the two of them engaged in a serious lip lock, and Sheila told Clay to call her when he returned.

Sometimes, Jason had the juvenile thought that he wished Stella could witness the kid kissing the cute nurse and she would become jealous and give Clay a second chance. But reality sunk in and he understood more on the situation after Ray shared what Naima told him.

Stella and the entire university faculty had been shocked by Isaksson's involvement with the IIB. It was Stella opening the email which sealed the ability to get the arrest warrant. The FBI also netted three students who had been recently recruited by him. Naima also revealed Stella came over to her home several times, asking about Clay … since Clay never bothered to contact her.

Each time Stella visited Naima, she teared up … and Naima said the woman loved Clay deeply, but still couldn't reconcile living her life waiting to find out if he would come home from a mission. Unfortunately, Jason understood what Stella was feeling … Alana struggled with the same issues, and that is part of the reason she left him.

As Clay joined them at the table, sitting in the only open chair, which happened to be next to him, Jason stifled a sigh as Clay crossed his arms and scooted the chair back and away from him. The only part about Spenser which still bothered him was the kid appeared to have lost trust him in. Understandable, since he was the one that put the kid in the position that allowed Doza's men to abduct, torture, and almost hang him.

Although Clay seemed to establish a decent relationship with all of Bravo … which included Davis and Blackburn, but not so much Ellis, the kid remained standoffish with him. During Clay's rehab, if given a choice Clay picked any member of the team to help, eschewing him as if he had the plague. At first, he shrugged it off, hoping to give Spenser time to accept his apology, but as weeks passed and nothing changed, it began to rub him the wrong way.

Having a team member who didn't trust his leadership would cause friction on missions … and could pose issues that might end up getting someone killed. Jason just didn't know how to fix this problem, because Clay's reasoning was justified. Jason accepted he screwed up big time … he only wanted a chance to rectify his error.

Jason tuned back into Mandy who finally got intel which might let them end this cat and mouse game once and for all.

Standing at the front of the table, Mandy said, "Four hours ago, Lazo called Carla to set up an escort for tonight."

Ray leaned forward, excited to finally have something actionable. "Okay, Whose the lucky lady?"

Mandy flicked a button and showed a photo of a pretty aspiring actress as she gave them the details on Nunez.

Sonny asked, "Are we going to pick him up en route or wait til he gets to his shag pad?"

Martinez advised against picking him up, stating Doza would be alerted the moment Lazo went off the grid.

Glad to be back in operation … but still not thrilled with working with Master Chief Hayes, regardless of what all the guys told him about Hayes, Clay kept his arms crossed, as he said, "All right, so what's the plan?"

As the conversation around him continued, Clay's anxiety increased when they talked about sending someone into the club which the cartel frequented. He clenched his jaw, hoping like hell they wouldn't choose him. Although he didn't recall the assault per se, recovering from being impaled on a hook had been no easy task, and he still woke jittery and drenched in sweat, dogged by nightmares he never remembered.

His eyes shifted to Ellis when she said couples attracted less attention. Clay would never admit, but when Mandy said Hayes had a date for the night, he was relieved not to be going into La Sociale. But the animosity between Hayes and Ellis fairly filled the room. He didn't understand the source of it, but a team rife with stress before a mission never boded well for a successful outcome.

When Blackburn suggest everyone go get some rest, Clay welcomed the respite. He stood and headed out with Sonny. He had become fast friends with the weird Texan … who seemed to give him a new name every time he talked to him. He lost count on the ones used, but of all of them, Kid was the most palatable and most often used by all the guys.

* * *

 _ **Mexican Marine Headquarters – Bravo Hooch**_

Sitting at the table, Clay glanced up when Hayes entered the area. He went back to cleaning his weapon, hoping not to be pulled into a conversation, but Jason spoke to him anyway.

"You're supposed to be resting."

"Had more than enough rest in the last two months. I'm good." Clay concentrated on reassembling the gun. What he left out is that he didn't want to chance sleeping and waking up soaked from another nightmare before his first mission back.

Jason decided not to push it for now. Though soon he and the kid would need to have it out. If Clay couldn't trust him … as much as it pained him, Spenser might need to transfer teams. If push came to shove, he would talk to John about placing the kid with Alpha, since he trusted Full Metal and Derek to keep him safe. No way in hell would he want or allow Spenser to end up on Fuller's Charlie team. Although, with Dunn and Roberson gone from Delta and the 2IC taking over, Spencer might be a good fit with Delta too.

Nodding, Jason left without saying another word. He really didn't want to lose the kid. The rest of Bravo would be royally pissed at him if they did. He headed to his little cell to contact his kids before they went back to the planning session … Lisa, Mandy, and Rita were pulling information on the club and surrounding area now, and they would reconvene in an hour.

* * *

 _ **Mexico City**_ _ **–**_ _ **Narrow Road**_

Clay yelled, "RPG," as he slid the van door open and bailed out on the driver's side with Brock who was driving. As he went sprawling on the ground, he hoped like hell Sonny made it out the other side. He didn't have time to think as bullets began flying, but before he had been dissatisfied with Hayes' call again … the master chief was putting them all at risk to get Lazo … and led them right into an ambush.

Scrambling up, he put his hand on his right side as it twinged. Though fully healed, landing hard on his stomach he must've bruised a rib. A flash rippled in front of his eyes, and he wobbled a moment before righting himself.

"Six, you okay?" Brock yelled as he rose and noticed the kid sway.

"Yeah, you?" Clay answered.

"Yeah."

Both raced for cover as the cartel men continued to fire.

* * *

 _ **Inside Church**_

With Doza's men on the way, QRF too far out, low on ammo, Martinez dead, and Lazo dying, this wasn't the time or place Jason would pick, but he could no longer allow Spenser to second-guess him in the field. He continued, "Every decision I've made has always been about mission success and what's best for the team. That's it. Don't ever doubt that. Never."

When Clay only stared at him, Jason added, "Even the decision to send you out with Sonny. You were off and jammed up. I needed to find out where your head was at. This mission is different. Failure's not an option. Doza must be stopped. He is pure evil … the scar you bear is a testament to his viciousness."

Clay's hand went to his right side at the mention of the wound he suffered. A flare of pain running through his head caused him to wince and falter. A strong grip steadied him, and when he opened his lids, he found Hayes' hand on his elbow. The concern reflected in Jason's eyes confused him.

"Got it?"

Unsure if the softer statement was the completion of his set down or asking if he was alright, Clay nodded and chose to answer as if it was for the former, "Roger that."

Jason wanted to ask if Clay was okay, but he didn't believe he would get a straight answer at this point. So he nodded and said, "Good. Positions." As Clay walked towards the front, he eyed Sonny, sending a message to watch out for the kid. He worried that perhaps they allowed him to return too soon or if he had been re-injured in the RPG blast.

His attention was diverted when Lazo asked for last rights. Jason understood he needed to be a bastard as he answered, "No. Mm-mm." The padre didn't like that one bit, and Jason realized Ray would have a problem with it too, but he needed Doza's whereabouts.

This would be his best last chance to obtain the info they needed. Although he told Spenser this mission was not personal … he lied. It was personal now. Doza would pay for what he did to the kid. The entire team was aware Clay suffered nightmares … his screams alerted them almost every time the kid slept. So if he had to be a bastard, he would. Doza's reign of terror must end and justice must be served.

* * *

 _ **Hiking Through the Mangrove Jungle to Doza's Compound**_

Clay followed Ray who was on point. During the thirty-minute planning session they joked with Sonny about jaguars being the sharks of the jungle … and as they did, something jarred in his memory. He struggled to place it and gave up as they went to grab a bit of rest before moving out.

Ever since he jumped out of the van and smacked the cement, he was experiencing bursts of pain in his head, and fragments of jumpy images which made no sense. Like a movie playing … but the film had been cut into thousands of pieces and glued back together in random order with many scenes left out.

One thing good to come out of the puzzling snippets is his sense of unease with Hayes seemed to dissipate. Though jumbled, he recalled bits and pieces of times when Jason had his back. He also remembered the tears in Jason's eyes as he spoke at Alana's funeral.

As a result, he apologized to Jason for questioning his judgment in the field and was surprised when Jason told him to forget it. His master chief understood he was frustrated and when he said, 'Besides, you almost got mudsucked, you know? And that'll do that to people, trust me,' Clay nodded, comprehending they were on an even keel again. He ended that portion of the conversation saying he would keep it for the AAR next time, which steered the conversation to Stella.

Stella … he still couldn't recall much about her, but apparently, he had been blindsided and jacked-up by her breaking up with him. Enough so that he was distracted and not on point during a mission, and caused Jason to make one bad call.

An animal growl interrupted his thoughts, followed by Sonny saying, "Please tell me that growl wasn't a jaguar."

Ray quipped, "Want someone to hold your hand, Sonny?"

"What I do want is to get ahold of is my rightful place atop the food chain."

Clay winced as another pain flashed his head. He tripped on a jungle vine and down he went. Opening his eyes, he found Trent above him with a worried mien.

"Headaches getting worse?" Trent queried, having noticed the frequent grimaces on Clay's face ever since the night at the church.

"How?" Clay started, wondering how Trent knew, but stopped, "never mind." He answered the medic, "Comes and goes. Short bursts, usually coupled with some piece of memory … or something I think might be a recollection. Sometimes I'm not sure."

"Like?" Trent asked as he pulled Clay up.

"Well, Sonny's comment about the top of the food chain … did a leopard try to eat me?"

Sonny chuckled. "Yep. Three-inch-long canines took a huge bite of you in the caves, and the claws tried to rip open your jugular. That's where the scars on your arm and back of your neck came from. I crushed its skull to dig out a bit o' brain matter to test for rabies."

"What else are you recalling?" Trent passed Clay a couple of aspirins to help with the headache.

Clay downed them, and as they resumed hiking, he said, "Things that don't make sense."

"Such as?" Ray prompted, happy the kid's memory was jogged, yet also worried he might experience emotional pain once his feelings for Stella returned … if they did. The kid might be unconsciously repressing them.

"Talking to someone named Hector in a graveyard about being in a hole. Jumping off an oil platform … twice, once holding Jason. Having an arrow in my ass. Tying some guy to a toilet with neckties."

The guys all laughed and filled in Clay on the events surrounding each of his memories until Ray's fist went up and they encountered five enemies guarding the back door of Doza compound.

* * *

 _ **Doza's Mansion**_

"Havoc this is One. Chiapas police are readying for engagement," Jason reported as he stood by the window near Clay.

"Copy that One. Stand by." Eric responded from the C17 TOC. He had a difficult decision to make, and Mandy's statement that they hand over the HVT wasn't her call to make. This was his job, the hard decisions fell to him … so did getting Bravo out of trouble, and in this case as with all cases … the men were his primary concern. Their lives were more important than a drug dealer.

"Havoc Base to Bravo One. Turn the HVT over and lay your weapons down. We're not losing any of you," Eric ordered. Not a call he really wanted to make, but he would rather turn over Doza than lose any of his men. The Chiapas police would go in heavy, and it would be an international incident … also something Eric didn't want to happen.

"Havoc this is One. Laying down," Jason replied … internally conflicted about coming so close, yet missing again.

"Jason, come on, man." Clay couldn't believe they would just let Doza go. He itched to put a bullet between the evil bastard's eyes.

Not happy with the command, Sonny said, "Come on, Boss."

"Weapons down. Now," Jason ordered as he took off his assault rifle and lay it in a chair.

Ray had Jason's back. "You heard the man, do it." He unslung his weapon. "We're not murderers."

"Yeah, but he's murdered thousands of people a year," Sonny retorted. His mind stuck on the fact that Clay might've been one of them … him too had Bravo not arrive in time on the rooftop to save their asses.

Angry that Doza would get away again, Clay challenged, "If we stand down, how many more die?"

Pacing, Jason turned to Clay. "I'm more concerned about your blood. We almost lost you once here. I'm not going to take a chance again. I failed you before, and I refuse to make another judgment call that puts your life … all our lives in jeopardy. Take your weapon off, lay it down. Now."

"There's no justice in this." Juan Lopez raised his gun and pointed it at Doza.

After several tense moments, Juan complied with Jason's order and tossed his weapon on the chair. Ray went to cut the zip ties binding Doza's hands as Jason instructed Clay to open the door.

The gunshot jarred Clay, and he spun around in time to see Doza fall to the carpet, and Juan drop Doza's handgun next to the dead man. Clay continued to stare as the blood puddle grew around the jackal's head, and Jason grabbed Juan's vest telling him he shouldn't have done that. Pain surged in Clay's head, and he staggered back against the jamb.

Sonny crossed the room in four strides and grabbed Spenser's arm to steady him. "Easy. You need to sit?"

A flood of memories assaulted Clay all at once. Overloaded with emotions as an image of Brian with a parachute, preparing for their training jump, then watching only five canopies unfurl, peering at five faces, hoping to find Brian's among those who landed safely, and the gut-wrenching grief when he didn't see him. Another set of flashes showed Adam telling him to shake it off, then Seaver running towards the s-vest and landing a moment later, missing limbs and on fire.

Clay sucked in jagged breaths as his knees started to buckle. His hand went to his abdomen as remembered searing pain lanced through him as the hook impaled him, the jarring and jerking motions as they hoisted him up causing him to scream bloody murder, and the expression on Sonny's face as he cried out.

"Four, need you here. Six is going down," Sonny called out as he took most of Clay's weight as the kid keeled over. The Chiapas police entered at the same moment calling for them to show them their hands, but Sonny refused to let go of Spenser to comply, which brought guns into both their faces.

Luckily, they didn't shoot as they assessed the situation … one man holding another who appeared to be having some type of panic attack. As Juan and Jason talked to Comandante Salas, Ray moved to assist Sonny since Trent wouldn't be able to come to them.

Clay's eyes remained shut, his brows knitted in intense pain, his jaw clenched as one memory after another slid into place. The good, the bad, the ugly … the excruciatingly painful. A forlorn, "Stella," slipped from Clay's mouth unbidden before he passed out.

Salas turned his attention to the soldier on the ground after he moved the pistol under Doza's hand, choosing to take the path of Doza committing suicide. He wondered what was going on, but didn't ask.

Jason turned his gaze from Spenser to Salas. "We just want to go home."

Salas took one last glance at the unconscious soldier then back at the leader. "Then go home."

Nodding Jason moved towards Clay. He crouched and pulled the kid against his shoulder. "I got him." Jason lifted Clay in a fireman's carry as he stood. It was time to take their kid home.

This mission tried all their souls … and the one word from Clay indicated to Jason the kid finally recalled what Stella meant to him. Their brother would be in a world of emotional pain, but the team would not forsake him … they would be with him every step of the way to support him in any way necessary.

Ray and Sonny fell into step behind Jason and Juan followed behind them. Reaching Trent and Brock, Juan halted and allowed the other two to join their teammates. Juan would never be able to repay these men or Colonel Martinez for their sacrifices … but he would try by continuing to fight against the cartels and make his country a safer place.

* * *

 _ **Clay's Apartment**_

Rapping on his door woke Clay. He rubbed his crusty eyes and spied the broken glass from the photo frame he had slammed on the ground in a fit of anger. His emotions ran the gambit from high to low. He wanted to blame jetlag, but the reality was, losing Stella hurt like hell … maybe worse the second time around.

His memories continued to come to him vivid technicolor. Every little laugh, the flick of Stella's hair, and the scent of her still lingered in his place even though it had been months … so he assumed … since she was in his place.

Louder knocking followed by, "Blondezilla, if you don't open up, I'm busting down this door," caused Clay to push off the couch and stagger over to his door.

He flung the portal open and growled, "What the hell do you want?"

Taking in Clay's disheveled state, noting he looked jacked up, Sonny quipped, "I see you got your beauty sleep … does wonders for your personality too, Sunshine."

"Fuck off!" Clay turned and shuffled back to his couch … his home for the last twenty-four hours.

Stepping into the apartment, Sonny noted the shattered picture frame, and a plethora of beer cans strewn about, but what concerned him was the almost empty bottles of Jack Daniels and Jim Beam.

Sonny wasn't one to be preaching to anyone about drinking in excess, but the kid had major surgery on his intestines only a two months ago … Trent didn't want him drinking more than an occasional beer. "So you've been partying with Jim and Jack I see. How's that working out for you?"

Clay only scowled. He wasn't about to tell Sonny he puked up everything he drank.

Grabbing the back of Clay's shirt, he pushed the kid towards the bathroom. "You reek. You need a shower, now."

"Go to hell!"

"Been there … kinda hot like Texas." When Clay tried to pull away from him, Sonny increased his hold and jostled the kid all the way to the bathroom and into the shower, and before Clay could exit, Sonny turned on the tap all the way to hot.

As the residual freezing water in the line cascaded down on Clay, he struck out at Sonny … found his hit blocked and himself sitting on the floor of his shower, his t-shirt and jeans drenched.

Sonny crossed his arms. "You gonna wash or do you require assistance?"

Glaring up at Sonny, Clay tugged off his shirt and flung it at his jackass of a brother, satisfied when he heard the thwack of it hitting him.

"At least your aim ain't impaired." Sonny dropped the wet shirt in the sink and waited until Clay began removing his jeans before exiting the room, satisfied the kid would wash now that he was soaking wet.

He checked the fridge, and of course, it was empty. _So … alcohol with alcohol and nothing to eat. The kid is not handling losing Stella well._ Sonny pulled out his phone and called Jason as he noted the steam coming from Clay's bathroom now that the water heated up.

Jason answered Sonny's call with, "How broken is he?"

"The kid looks like a strung-out junkie. Threw him in the shower … literally. He's gonna be pissed about that. Needs food and us. Trent's not gonna be pleased with his choice of beverages nor the quantity … tell him to bring his kit."

Jason sighed. "On my way. I'll call the others."

Sonny hung up and grabbed a trash bag before heading to the main room. He tossed all the beer cans and both whiskey bottles into the bag. Next, he went in search of a broom and dustpan, stopping to peek in the bathroom, noting Clay letting the water roll down his back. He swept up the shards and put the now glassless frame back on the desk where it had sat for almost a year.

When the water turned off, Sonny checked on Clay again and noted he ambled to the bedroom toweling his hair dry.

Clay dressed in comfortable sweatpants, and then pulled out a clean shirt. As he went to yank it over his head, he caught the scent of Stella. He bit his lower lip and scrunched his face.

So much in this place reminded him of her … everywhere he turned he could see her. Sitting on the couch grading papers. Standing at the sink, complaining about his choice of toothpaste, but using it anyway. Lying in his bed next to her … happy just to cuddle or enjoying a jaunty ride with her atop him.

He thought he hit the jackpot with Stella. An intelligent, fun-loving, and strong woman. He believed he could have it all, but that was only a pipe-dream. They were now as far apart as January and July … Jupiter and Mars … North and South poles. She resented his work, and his work was who he was … so she resented him.

"Decent?" Sonny called out as he came to the bedroom door.

"Like that would matter to you," Clay sniped.

Sonny chuckled.

Clay eyed him. "I assume the others are on their way."

"Yep."

"And you told Trent?"

"Nope."

Clay lifted a brow and sighed. "You told Jason, and he told Trent."

Sonny grinned. "And they say alcohol dulls the mind."

Clay shook his head, pushed past Sonny, and noted his teammate cleaned up his mess. His eyes landed on the photo of him and Stella, but he continued to the couch and plopped down.

Not long after, the rest of Bravo team showed up. Ray arrived with something Naima whipped up. Trent came with his med kit, and Clay submitted to a once-over. Brock brought Cerberus, who jumped up on the couch next to him and laid his head in Clay's lap once Trent finished his exam. Jason carried in several bags, presumably with groceries, though Clay didn't see the contents.

Several hours later, Clay nodded off again, his stomach full of healthy food, and his mind filled with jovial anecdotes as his brothers distracted him from his heartache. As much as it hurt recalling how Stella left him … he would never wish he hadn't regained his memory, because he would be missing all the good parts of being a member of Bravo team too.

The guys cleaned up, moved Clay to his bed, and then said goodbye to Sonny who would be staying the night … or several nights to ensure Clay didn't fall off the deep end again. Together they would help him through his pain because that is what brothers do for one another.

.

* * *

 **AN:** Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all my fabulous readers. Hope you enjoyed AI-J and my little tweaking of the episodes to intertwine this story back into canon.

Suggestions for K and L welcome. Contributions for J include ...

\- Jackal from IndyElora, Lunary, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jacked from floopdeedoopdee  
\- Jackpot from IndyElora, Lunary  
\- Jaguar from Lunary, NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jam/Jammed from Ildeira, L3gend78, Victoria-Annxx  
\- January from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jaundice from HoneyPear, NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jaw from AeroWright, HoneyPear, IndyElora, Juniper, NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jealous/jealousy from Juniper, Lunary, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jeans from NYPDathenareagan  
\- Jello from IndyElora, NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jeopardy/jeopadize/jeopadizing from Juniper, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jerk from Chgrgal, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jetlag from floopdeedoopdee, IndyElora, Juniper, NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jittery from IndyElora, Juniper  
\- Jock/Jocky from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jog/jogging from HoneyPear, Juniper  
\- Join from L3gend78  
\- Joint from floopdeedoopdee, HoneyPear  
\- Joke/joker/jokes from IndyElora, L3gend78, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jugular from Chgrgal, floopdeedoopdee, Guest, HoneyPear, Juniper, Lunary, NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Juice from Victoria-Annxx  
\- July from Victoria-Annxx, Ildeira  
\- Jumble/jumbled from IndyElora, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jump/Jumpy/jumped/jumper from floopdeedoopdee, HoneyPear, Ildeira, IndyElora, Juniper, L3gend78, NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jungle from NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Junkie from floopdeedoopdee  
\- Jupiter from Ildeira, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Jurisdiction from Lunary  
\- Jury from Chgrgal, Ildeira, Lunary  
\- Just from Lunary  
\- Justice from Chgrgal, floopdeedoopdee, Guest, HoneyPear, Lunary, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Justify/justified from floopdeedoopdee, Lunary  
\- Juvenile from floopdeedoopdee


	11. Katie Down Under

**Katie Down Under**

* * *

 _ **Virginia – DEVGRU Gym**_

Clay let loose all his anger and frustration on the heavy bag. Kick after kick and punch after punch landing with precision as sweat trickled down his face and back. Memories and regret assaulted him which caused him to hit harder. Though the fucked up situation with Ash was most recent ... last night ... his mind focused on Stella at the moment.

Stella's, _I can't believe you just said that_ expression as she stood outside his door when he quipped, 'I didn't die in Mexico,' didn't go over too well. He hoped … wished … internally begged … she would change her mind when she came to pick up her stuff. But she didn't and the kicker, the thing that ripped out his heart yet again, was when she handed him back his key.

After he closed the door, he struggled not to reopen it and call her back, to go down on bended knee and plead with her to stay. But he didn't. She made her choice, and he his … she resented his life as a team guy … and all he ever wanted to be was a top tier operator. It was his core and if she made him choose between his team or her … his brothers would always win.

Going after the guy with the pool stick had been embarrassing. Thankfully, Quinn and Davis had his back and kept him from doing something exceedingly stupid, which might've ended up with him being booted off the team. Not much Blackburn or Hayes could do to save his ass if he was charged with assault. Though after what his ashhole father did, he might still be off.

Jumping into the sack with whats-her-name … Marcie … had been a kneejerk decision … not like him. He never did tell her his name, and the more he thought about Sonny blowing him off, the more he considered the possibility Marcie might have been one of the strippers from the Glitter Girls club the Texan frequented. She certainly left quick enough afterward and didn't even offer her phone number, only a 'see you around' comment.

Sonny sat on the lifting bench, keeping an eye on the kid. He meant what he said to Davis in the plane … the kid needed to rub some dirt on it and walk it off. To which he helped facilitate, allowing him to hook up with Davis that night instead of sitting at the Bulkhead Bar with a broken kaleidoscope … Spenser's only color blue at the moment. Marcie would dust off the kiddo and get him back in the saddle. And he would make sure Clay's asshole father didn't screw with him again either.

Trent sidled up to Sonny and knocked his shoulder. "How long the kid been at the bag?"

"Not long enough and too long," Sonny drawled out.

Ray joined the two men and inclined his head towards Spenser. "Still pining for Stella or is this Ash related?"

"Both probably." Trent blew out a breath. "Who's gonna be the killjoy and stop him before he bruises his knuckles?"

Ray moved forward without comment. This fell to him to sort out while Jason took Emma to her first Krav Maga class. He had been surprised Emma wanted to learn the military self-defense fighting system developed in Israel derived from techniques used in karate, judo, wrestling, boxing, and aikido, but supported her desire.

His talk with Spenser in Qatar appeared to do little good, and last night had been painful to witness too when the kid broke down after finding out his father set him up as the fall guy. The kid needed to get his head back in the game, but they granted him leeway. Clay had been through Hell and back in Mexico and his memories were still fresh for him, whereas for the rest of the team, Stella was ancient history. And Ash ... well, that still needed to be resolved.

"Spenser, time to knock off." Ray stopped next to the hanging bag and halted its swinging as Clay peered at him.

"Not done." Clay inhaled sharply, still fighting the desire to kick the shit out of something.

"You are." He pointed to the poorly wrapped hands … which indicated to Ray that Clay was still fighting demons. "Knuckles can't take much more abuse. Trent will be pissed if you break or bruise them."

"Then I'll kick only." Clay spun and landed a hard kick, unfortunately, sending the bag right into Ray's face. "Ah, shit. Sorry."

Ray grimaced as his hand moved to his nose. _Leeway is one thing … recklessness quite another._ "If it's broken, you're running the hills for months," Ray ground out, also pissed he didn't react fast enough to avoid being whacked.

Trent and Sonny came forward, Trent going straight to Ray to check for damage.

Eyeing the kid, Sonny said, "Well, Kato, give you a score of eight for the surprise attack and form, but a ten-point deduction for nailing Inspector Clouseau. Not a smart move."

Trent chuckled at the Pink Panther reference, as Ray scowled. Probing lightly, Trent made an assessment. "Not broken … might swell a little." He turned his attention to Clay. "Hit the showers and when you're done, let me check your hands."

Realizing he screwed up, and deciding not to make matters worse, Clay nodded, pivoted, and stalked off without another word.

* * *

 _ **Australia – Special Air Service Regiment – Gym**_

Sergeant Joey Koala, a burly but affable man with prematurely gray hair, strode in and observed his squad without them being aware of his presence. He grinned at the antics. Forward thinking, especially after meeting one Alexandra McKenna at a SWAT competition in Canada, he agreed to become the first special ops unit to integrate a woman. Lexa was an amazing constable and sniper, which is probably one of the reasons his friend Dan Broderick was attracted to her. He hoped to arrange a leave to visit Dan and Lexa in a few months.

His version of Lexa came in the form of Kick-ass Katie Kilpatrick. Not as petite as Lexa's five-foot-two, Katie stood five-foot-seven and her physique well-tone and muscular, but still feminine. She held her own against the blokes and possessed a wide range of abilities and training.

A premiere sniper, skilled medic, and superb tactician who saw the matrix, Katie could also fly. That's how they met. In a previous mission, she pulled their bacon off the barbie. As a helo pilot, Katie landed in a hot zone no other chopper jockey would dare and saved their hides.

Koala clapped as Katie sent his 2IC, Mark Holt, to the mat. "Beauty takedown! Gather round, we've got guests on their way, and I need to brief you on our assignment."

Katie stood and brushed her wheat-colored hair behind her ears. She missed her long hair but had cut it in a bob a week after joining Koala's team. Kasey, their entry specialist, had grabbed her braid during a sparring session and chastised her for allowing a handhold which might bring her down. Katie grinned as she recalled grabbing Kasey's long beard and twisting before putting him in a headlock. He trimmed his beard after the session too.

Holt picked himself up off the ground and turned to Koala with a sour expression. Things had been fine until Kilpatrick came along … now they were the laughing stock of special ops, which didn't sit well with him. "Who are we hosting and why?"

"A team of U.S. Navy SEALs and don't be getting your knickers in a bunch … I'm here to tell ya."

* * *

 _ **Bravo Team's Aircraft – Perth, Australia**_

Clay slung his pack over one shoulder and slid on his sunglasses as the bright sun caused him to squint. After his shower, they had been called to TOC and spun up for a mission in Australia. His sense of dread increased during the flight, particularly because Jason ranted for a long time about their assignment, none too pleased. Jason's ire was directed at Blackburn and Ellis, both of whom did their best trying to defuse Jason.

Apparently, their hands were tied. Powers above them dictated the conditions … and they had no say. Clay would do his duty, but his still fresh recollections of his acid trip which ended with an arrow in his keister came to haunt him as he slept in his hammock. He tried to ignore his misgivings, not liking the idea of being bait once again, and rational thinking told him the odds of being taken were low.

Clay sucked in a breath and followed Trent and Brock down the ramp. He grinned as Cerberus trotted along beside him. _At least if I am kidnapped again, good ole Cerb will find me._

Sonny watched the kid exit and shook his head. His gut knotted up as they learned the details of this op. In flight, he pestered both Trent and Davis for several hours, insisting they tag their Ken Doll with a subdermal GPS tracker. He didn't want to lose the kid again. Funny thing is the kiddo would've probably agreed if they could implant one … but they didn't have one so couldn't. Grabbing his gear, Sonny stomped off the plane in a kafkaesque mood.

"Brother, he'll be alright," Ray said a little nasally through his swollen nose as he noted the tension in Jason.

"You can't promise that. This is no easy task for him. How the hell is he supposed to pretend to be all lovey-dovey with another woman when he's clearly still not over Stella. And after last night ... he is still a mess." Jason clenched his fist, still keyed up and pissed off even after the long flight.

"Clay's a team guy … he will do whatever is necessary. What he doesn't need right now is you questioning his capability. He's off-kilter enough as it is, he needs you to show you have faith in his abilities. You need to communicate you trust him to do his job." Ray picked up his shades and gave Jason a pointed glare before slipping them on.

Releasing his fist, Jason nodded, accepting his friend's advice. He shouldn't go around undercutting Clay's confidence, or this whole mission could go kaput in a split second. They needed Clay and the Aussie operative to go in as a newlywed couple to gather intel which would help them locate Karen and Gareth Dilbert, the international power couple with strong ties to the defense of both the US and Australia.

According to Ellis' info, Karen Dilbert, a U.S. citizen and CEO of Kessler Nautical, an American privately held defense company, supplied highly sophisticated technology to the U.S. Navy. She recently married Gareth Dilbert, an influential and wealthy Aussie, who owned a shipyard with contracts to build ships for the Australian Navy. Three days ago, while on their honeymoon in the Keeling Islands, the duo went missing, their whereabouts unknown.

Presumed kidnapped, though no proof of an abduction existed nor had anyone received a ransom demand. Both countries feared the motive behind their disappearance would be something which might compromise national security, not money. They were here to dig up any lead which would locate the Dilbert's and rescue them too.

This hit too close to home for Jason. The mission in Argentina where they lost Clay when the murderous bitch Arcilla targeted American college students in her sick hunting game still angered him. His men were his brothers, and he needed to ensure they came home from each operation, but it seemed like Clay was on the receiving end of most of the shit that came their way.

* * *

 _ **Special Air Service Regiment – Hangar**_

Koala spied the SEALs entering. "Heads up." His squad all stood and followed him as he started across the hangar to meet them halfway. He came to a halt, and his eyes landed in the man he believed to be Hayes. "G'day. I'm Sergeant Koala." He extended his hand.

Jason shook the sergeant's hand as he said, "Master Chief Hayes."

Releasing Hayes' hand, Koala motioned to his team as he introduced them. "My number two, Holt. Kasey, Danvers, Riley, and Kilpatrick."

Reciprocating, Jason pointed out his men. "Perry my 2IC, Quinn, Sawyer, Reynolds, and Spenser."

Katie smiled. "So, which one of you handsome blokes is my new husband?"

Slapping Clay's back and pushing him forward, Sonny quipped, "Ken Doll … be easy on him … he's a virgin."

Clay elbowed Sonny in the ribs, getting a satisfying "oof" from the Texan. "I'm Clay. Ignore Sonny he's not house trained yet."

As the guys all chuckled, Katie stepped to Clay and linked her arm with his. "Well, I believe we will leave the boys," she cocked an eyebrow at Quinn before adding, "and the dogs to work out their plans. I arranged for us to have lunch in a private room. If we're gonna be convincing as newlyweds, we need to speed past any awkwardness and get to know one another."

When Katie tugged him away, Clay shot a _what the hell_ expression at his team, Jason in particular, who only cocked his head and shrugged with a slight grin.

Koala's face split into a huge grin as he spied more than one dumbfounded expression. The blond, blue-eyed SEAL reminded him a younger version of Dan. Spenser appeared as fresh-faced as Broderick did when they did the combined Aussie-Canadian recruit selection testing in Bindoon years ago. "No worries. Your mate's safe with Katie." He pinned his gaze on Sonny and teased, "She'll teach him a thing or two but will be real gentle like."

Sonny laughed. "I like her already."

Becoming serious, Koala turned his focus to Hayes, "Before we grab lunch and begin planning, I want to make a few things clear. First, my squad's lives are paramount. Second, this is a joint mission, and I don't give a pig's arse which one of us the brass puts in charge, but I will have a problem if decisions put my mates at unnecessary risk."

"We are agreed … zero margin for error. Not losing the kid—" Jason stopped abruptly before admitting … again. The two teams moved off to the tables set up with sandwiches and drinks, before gathering around another table to begin the combined briefing.

* * *

 _ **Special Air Service Regiment – Conference Room**_

Katie pushed open the door to the smallish room and waited until Clay entered. Letting the portal swing shut behind her, she took a seat first and grabbed a water bottle. "Wanted beer, but Koala said no."

Pulling out a chair, Clay lowered himself to it as he flashed her a quick grin. "Water's fine."

"Didn't know what you might like, you choose which sandwich you want, and I'll eat the other." Katie sipped as she tried to get a bead on her partner for this op.

Clay opted for the roast beef, and found himself rather hungry now, having been too on edge to eat earlier. "So, tell me about yourself." Like with Marcie, he didn't want to offer details first and depending on what she told him he would decide what to share.

Katie lifted the turkey and swiss, took a bite, chewed, swallowed, and consumed more water before launching into a brief history. "I'm third generation SAS … and the first female selected for an assault team. My oldies—"

Clay stopped her. "Oldies?"

"Parents. Anyway, my pops and granddad were both assaulters, and their specialties were as team sniper. My grandmum was a nurse. My mum died when I was born. My grandparents raised me in the outback, and my pops visited every chance he got.

"They taught me to shoot at an early age, and I was flying Granddad's helo by the time I was twelve. Made getting around a lot faster when you live in the middle of nowhere. Grandmum taught me all about first aid, again with nothing close, we had to handle medical emergencies on our own.

"Couldn't decide whether to become a pilot or doctor, but I went into medicine after high school because I got a scholarship. My course changed two years later …" Katie trailed off as sad memories crowded in. She took another bite of her sandwich.

Into the silence, Clay said, "I grew up with my grandparents too. I'm a sniper and second-generation SEAL … my father _was_ a team guy too." Clay inwardly cringed as that slipped out ... and quickly bypassed it by adding, "My mom wasn't in the picture most of my life … then she died."

Katie nodded. "Seems we have a bit in common."

"What happened to stop you from becoming a doctor?" Clay shoved the last little piece of his sandwich in his mouth, not realizing he had essentially inhaled it.

No longer hungry, Kate offered Clay her untouched half as she said, "Pops was killed while on an op in Kandahar. The bloody pilot refused to land, and Pops bled out waiting for exfil. I enlisted to be a chopper jockey so no other soldier would die unnecessarily."

She smiled as Clay took the turkey sandwich. "A year after completing my training, I met Koala for the first time. His squad was in a tight spot, taking heavy fire with two men severely injured. None of the other pilots wanted to take the risk, but I couldn't allow them to perish without trying to save them.

"I landed, and they all got out alive. When they opened up the last of the combat positions to women, my granddad became a huge supporter of me when I told him I wanted to try. I made it through, but selection was a bit dicey … didn't think any of the squads would want a woman. Koala surprised me when he chose me in the first round of drafts. I was his first choice."

She dipped her head and sighed before lifting it. "To be honest, not everyone on the team is happy I'm here. Holt can be a bit of an ass … doesn't think woman belong in SAS and never lets me forget I'm the rookie, though I can outshoot him."

Clay chuckled. "I understand being the newbie. Been with Bravo for over a year now, led men before making DEVGRU, but none of that matters to the guys, especially Sonny. I'm the last to join the team and the youngest, so I am still wearing the rookie badge."

Katie nodded and delved into the next topic which concerned her. "So, anyone at home who might be a bit ticked off about us kissing and such?"

A pang went through his heart, though not as sharp as before. "Nope. How about you? Any guy I gotta watch out for who might come at me with a pool cue?"

"Nope. No time … besides, I haven't found a bloke yet who understands women can possess as much drive to protect our country as men." She waved her hand. "Sorry, I'll not step up on my soapbox."

"I get it. It isn't a gender thing. You are who you are, and what is important to you matters. I respect that." Clay finished the water and leaned back feeling more comfortable with Katie. "So if we are on our honeymoon, what types of activities should we engage in while at the resort? What do you like to do?"

Katie beamed at Clay. "I love water sports. They offer kitesurfing and kayaking among other things. We can mix a little fun with our work. But since the Dilbert's went missing while on a day dive, I think we should schedule one with the same company also to find out as much as we can. And of course, we should laze around on the white sand beaches and play in the blue lagoons to make a convincing couple."

She stood, moved to Clay, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Think we should test out our chemistry in private. Don't think I want to deal with the catcalls from Kasey. He's a good bloke, but he loves to tease the crap out of me." She laughed. "I cut my hair because of him. He pulled my braid."

Clay rose, grinning. "Should I go all protective husband on him and make him pay for that?"

"No worries, I handled it myself … he lost a few beard hairs in retribution." Katie slipped her hands around Clay's waist and tipped her head up. Only two inches shorter than him, their faces would meld perfectly.

Peering into Katie's azure eyes, Clay slowly moved his head until his lips were a fraction of hair's width from hers. A zing went through him which hadn't happened with Marcie … the last time he felt anything remotely similar was the first time he kissed Stella.

Katie closed the distance, pressing her lips softly to his. Their kiss deepened, each engaging wholly. Without realizing it, Clay walked them to the wall, and Katie's back halted them. One hand moved to her silky hair, wanting her more, while the other slid around her back and pulled her closer to him as his body pushed up against hers. When she opened her mouth, he slipped his tongue in to dance.

After several minutes of hot and heavy kissing, Katie pulled back, breathless, and smiled. "Don't think we need to worry about chemistry."

Clay grinned, his boyish yet manly eyes gleaming. "Think I need more practice." He captured her luscious lips again, enjoying himself for the first time in months.

* * *

 _ **Special Air Service Regiment – Bravo Quarters**_

"Well, lookie here, Lover Boy finally decided to grace us with his presence," Sonny teased as Clay entered the room set up for the team to rest before taking a commercial flight to the islands later tonight. "How's your lovely wife?" Laughing, Sonny ducked as the book the kid threw at him flew by his head

"Kilpatrick is kind … but don't piss her off, she can snipe your ass, Quinn."

"Heard she plays doctor too." Sonny was happy to see the grin on Clay's face for the first time in a long time.

Rolling his eyes, Clay didn't bother to respond because it would only encourage Sonny to keep digging. He dropped onto one of the bunks, and when Cerberus hopped up next to him, he petted the dog. Getting to know Katie had been fun. They spent the last four hours together laughing, joking around and generally learning about each other's life. He hadn't expected to be looking forward to this op, but spending more time with her … well, he keenly anticipated doing so. He turned his gaze to Jason. "The rest of the planning session go okay?"

"You would know if you had bothered to make an appearance." Though satisfied with Koala and most of the Aussie's team, he didn't like the vibe he got off Holt every time Kilpatrick was mentioned.

Ray gave Jason a reproving glance.

Jason answered, "Yes. We're all set. Bravo is taking lead and cover has been arranged for several of us on the island. Eyes will be on you twenty-four-seven.

Ray asked, "Clay, did you two establish a baseline, so your stories hold up when you interact with the locals?"

"Yeah, we did. Our backstory is set. Simple and based on facts so we can keep it straight. Met when I visited Perth, discovered we share many commonalities and likes, whirlwind courtship, and married today."

Brock moved from lying on his back with his hands behind his head to a sitting position, needing to feed Cerb. As he stood, he asked, "What do you have in common?" He grabbed the bag of kibble and poured some in the bowl.

Though Cerberus wanted to stay close to his boy, hunger won out so he jumped down and padded over to his dish.

Clay understood they would ask, so shared only the non-intimate things, "Both raised by grandparents, snipers, and her father and grandfather were SAS." He left out; _we like kissing each other._

"Koala didn't tell us she is SAS royalty," Sonny quipped.

Yawning to stop further questions, Clay laid down and closed his eyes. He was tired from jetlag and not sleeping well lately. He drifted off rather quickly.

When Sonny opened his mouth to badger Clay again, Trent shook his head. "Kid needs to rest, we all do. Long days coming."

Sonny nodded, and a grin remained in place as he reclined on his bunk. _Kid seems content and not so down in the dumps. Perhaps this mission won't be all bad after all_.

* * *

 _ **Keeling Islands – Cocos Hide-away on Home Island – Bungalow K**_

Clay set down their luggage as Katie tipped the driver who shuttled them from the dock to the individual bungalows on the beach. They flew from Perth to West Island before taking a ferry to Home Island where the Dilbert's had stayed. He plopped on the king-sized bed and turned to Katie. "Why does everything say Cocos Island? Thought the archipelago was called Keeling Island."

After setting her purse down on the little desk, she kicked off her sandals and crawled up on the bed. "They've been called both. The official name is Cocos Keeling Islands. The Australian territory consists of two atolls made up of twenty-seven coral islands, of which only two, West and Home islands, are inhabited. North Keeling Island is actually a national park, and bird sanctuary which is located about twenty miles from Home Island."

"Guess I would've learned that if we attended the briefing." Clay winked at Katie. "Enjoyed our session more."

Katie draped herself over Clay's back, resting her chin on his shoulder since the bungalow's wide veranda opened up to the white sand beach and several people appeared to be checking out who just checked in. "Me too. What will it be today … kayaking, kitesurfing, or a stroll along the beach to orient ourselves?"

Glad for the audience which couldn't hear them but boldly stared at the newcomers, Clay took the opportunity to play his part and twisted, pulling Katie into his lap and kissing her before he said, "How about a walk first then kayaking?"

"Sounds like a plan. I'm gonna change into my bathers and some shorts. Why don't you close the doors and change too?" Katie gave him a peck on the cheek as she rose and grabbed her bag.

Clay stood and ambled to the opening. He gazed out at the idyllic scene, and a small pang squeezed his heart. A beautiful place for a real honeymoon … too bad Stella … Clay halted his thoughts as he yanked the glass door closed and then pulled the curtain. Once not visible he fished out his phone to check in. "Hey, we're in Bungalow K. Planning on scoping out the beach and going to the kayak rental place the Dilbert's visited."

Jason replied, "Good. Sonny and Koala will be your tail on land, Ray and Kasey will take over when you go kayaking."

Clay chuckled. "Sonny still wearing his shark repellant bracelet?"

"Yep." Jason grinned, the kid appeared at ease and on point when he left for the airport.

"You need to tell him the bracelet won't protect him from all the deadly spiders and snakes." Clay slipped out of his button-down shirt and tossed it on the bed then reached for his backpack for a t-shirt.

"Nope, nada. Can you imagine the bitching and moaning we'll have to put up with from him? Australia will probably surpass Sonny's dislike for the jungle."

"True. I'll check in when we return to the room."

"Be careful out there. We have no clue what actually happened to them."

"Roger." Clay disconnected and pulled on his shirt. He shimmied out of his jeans and tugged on a pair of swim trunks and slipped his feet into flip-flops, a pair of sunglasses completed his relaxed beach attire. He turned when Katie stepped out of the bathroom.

His jaw dropped taking in the stunning beauty wearing a bikini top and a pair of shorts. In her hand was a tank top she planned to put on. His gawking was interrupted as Katie started laughing and pointed at him. "What?"

"Oh, that's funny, Clay. I need a shirt like that."

Clay glanced down and realized which one he pulled out.

"As a little girl, my room was decorated in unicorns." Katie continued to giggle as she stared at the image of a rhino with the saying, SAVE THE CHUBBY UNICORNS around it.

After pulling his shirt over his head, Clay tossed it to her. "It's yours."

"I can't possibly take your shirt."

"You can." Clay reached for his bag and withdrew another shirt.

Katie moved forward, her hand going out to the scar on Clay's right side under his ribcage. "This is a recent wound."

"A couple of months."

She noted the other scars. Her fingers moved up to his shoulder. "This one is older but still less than a year." She lifted her eyes and met Clay's. "Badges of your courage." She turned and displayed her back. "I got this one the day I pulled Koala's team out of the barbie. Didn't even know I was hit until after we landed. I got out, took five steps and passed out. Koala caught me before I smacked into the tarmac. He was on his way back to say thanks for saving them after handing off his wounded men to the medics."

Clay lightly touched the scar on her left shoulder blade.

Twisting her head, she asked, "Is it ugly?"

He shook his head and leaned down to kiss it. "A badge of courage can never be ugly."

Her smile brightening, Katie slipped on Clay's shirt, now her favorite shirt. "How's it look on me?"

"Perfect."

* * *

 _ **Beachside Bar**_

Clay and Katie sat at one of the little bar tables after their stroll up and down the beach. Along the way, they had stopped to strike up conversations with several locals hoping to garner some hint as to the Dilbert's activities which might help locate them. In between, they filled the silence gaps by telling each other about their teammates. That's when the plan hatched to razz Sonny.

He knew Koala and Sonny sat in the shade of the palm trees sipping some frozen concoction a few tables over from them, and he pitched his volume loud enough for them to hear. "I still can't believe Australia has so many deadly animals. Seems like everything wants to kill you."

Katie nodded. "Yeah, even the roos are deadly. Did you know they have this long spear-like claw on the end of their foot which can easily disembowel a person? I wouldn't try to kickbox with them."

"At least you have some cuddly animals too. Like the koala bear." Clay suppressed his chuckle as Katie's eyes widened purposefully.

"Oh, yeah they are, but the Drop Bear is its deadly cousin."

"What's a drop bear?" Clay bit his lower lip as his eyes gleamed with mischief.

"Crikey, you mean no one warned you about the drop bear?"

Clay shook his head. "Why would I need to be warned?"

"Because they account for more deaths than shark attacks and snake bites combined. They are similar in size and appearance to the koala, but deadly carnivorous predators who hunt by ambushing ground-dwelling animals from above. Once prey is within view, they can drop from up to twenty-six feet on top of the unsuspecting victim. The impact stuns their prey, and they sink their long fangs into the jugular vein and rip the neck open.

"Deadly little creatures." Katie shuddered for effect. "Lost one of my best friends to a drop bear. She thought she was safe in her own backyard and forgot to check the trees."

Sonny's eyes landed on Koala. "There's such a thing as a drop bear."

Memories flooded back of Dan teasing Brody about drop bears as he nodded. Raising his voice so it would carry to Katie and Clay, comprehending their ruse, and joining in, Koala said, "Yeah, reminds me of an old friend of mine, Dan. We went through recruit selection testing together. Man, we almost didn't make it."

Koala moved his leg, so the scar he got from the king brown snake which bit him on their last obstacle was visible to Quinn. "See that. A drop bear got me as I was holding the line as Broderick descended a cliff to a ledge about forty or so feet down. The drop bear was only a baby, which is how I survived. It hit my head and bounced but sunk its fangs into my leg.

"One of the sergeants running the testing shot the bloody thing. I swear that is what turned my hair gray … 'cause not only did I almost die, I nearly killed Dan when I dropped the line. Dan ended up injuring his knees when he landed on the ledge."

Struggling to keep his mirth inside, Koala reveled in jerking the Yank's chain almost as much as he did when he did it to Dan before the kangaroo kicked Dan and knocked him out.

Sonny blew out a breath as his fingers twisted the shark bracelet and he unconsciously scanned the palm trees for this dreaded drop bear. _Damn, Australia is worse than the jungle and the ocean._

Katie leaned in close, acting like a newlywed and giggled into Clay's shoulder as she whispered. "Koala's story changes every time he tells it. It's actually a snake bite, and he did drop Dan … lucky the bloke didn't bust his kneecaps. Koala said Dan is the best sniper he ever met, and Dan's girlfriend Lexa is a close second. They're both on a Tactical Response Force team in Toronto."

Clay's confidence returning steadily as he began to envision a new future without Stella, he said, "I think we could give them a run for their money."

Katie laughed. "Agree. Ready to go kayaking?"

"Lead the way, Beautiful."

* * *

 _ **Two Days Later – Bungalow K**_

Clay brushed Katie's hair behind her ear as he smiled. "Morning, Beautiful."

Azure eyes blinked open and peered up at the face of a wonderful man. She would never regret last night, though both understood it would be a one-time thing. Neither would choose to leave their team, and a long-distance relationship would never work. But stealing one night, indulging their fantasies with a kindred spirit … well, that was something Katie would cherish for a long time. And she would have his funny shirt as a keepsake. "Morning."

"Want breakfast in bed? I can go grab you something?" Clay moved to rise, but Katie's hand stopped him.

"No. I want one more kiss with no one watching."

Clay leaned down and pressed his lips to Katie's, savoring the sweetness. When he pulled back, he gazed at a beautiful and kind woman … who kicked-ass too. She helped him in more ways than he could ever tell her. He now could leave Stella in the past and move forward. Katie gave him hope he would find a woman who wouldn't make him choose and could accept his life fully with no resentment. "You ready for the dive today?"

Scooting up, Katie nodded. Been a while since I've gone scuba diving. I usually surf and occasionally snorkel. But I'll be in good hands with a SEAL."

Clay shifted to the edge of the bed and grinned, but focused on their mission. "Wish we found something more on the Dilbert's."

Katie sighed, understanding it was time to put illusions away and get back to work. She swung her feet out from the covers. "Has Ellis been able to put any more pieces together?"

"No. Jason said everything we've fed her has come up blank. I hope we find something on the day trip." Clay rose, still au naturel, but comfortable in his skin in front of Katie, and moved towards the bathroom. After turning on the water so it could warm up, he returned at the entryway. "I'll be quick, then grab us coffee while you get ready."

Katie's mind now on the job ahead of them, turned and nodded, but said, "I wish they sent in real detectives. Give me something to shoot, fix, or fly, and I'm your Sheila, but investigating a disappearance, not the best part of my skill set."

Chuckling, Clay leaned on the jamb. "About what I said to Jason when we met in the restaurant men's room last night to covertly exchange information. Told him I'm Kato, not Inspector Clouseau. Still not sure why they didn't just assign a real investigator or one of the spooks … this would be more up their alley."

"Another item you missed out on when we didn't attend the briefing session. There is a concern the magistrate and constable assigned to the island might be mixed up in this. The Dilbert's credit card was last used with Kingfisher Tours, but the owner-operator of the dive company, Mike Kingfisher, insists the couple didn't show up at the allotted time.

"Kingfisher refunded the charge, and said he took the day off to go diving with friends … one Bill Keller, the magistrate, and Gary Buckler, the constable." Katie rose and moved to Clay, smiling as his eyes roved over her bare breasts.

Hard to keep his mind on the job when presented with such beauty, Clay nodded. "Um …" he swallowed, willing his lower parts to behave, inhaled, and moved his gaze to her eyes. "But a few of those we talked to indicate the Dilbert's were on the boat."

"Exactly." Reaching Clay, Katie slipped her hands around his neck, pressing her body against his. "How about I wash your back and you wash mine. We can conserve water … well, maybe not …" Her come-hither look communicating she wanted Clay one last time.

Clay grinned and stepped them backward to the shower, ready and willing as their lips met once more.

* * *

 _ **Aboard the Kobayashi Maru**_

Trying hard to contain his fists, wanting to let them fly at the Aussie second in command, having already stopped Sonny after the Texan landed a solid punch which sent Holt into the drink and would result in a black eye for Holt, Jason paced below deck on the aptly named rented fishing boat. They were definitely in a no-win situation at the moment.

The Kobayashi Maru's engine broke down about ten miles out from port, leaving them halfway between Home Island and Keeling Island which was the diving destination for Spenser and Kilpatrick. Pissed off, Jason glared at Holt as he asked Ray, who knelt by vessel's engine, "Can you fix it?"

Ray glanced up as Koala and Kasey arrived with tools they scrounged up. "Yeah, I'm fairly certain, but it is gonna take a bit."

"Work fast. Clay and Katie are out there with no backup."

"On it, brother." Ray was as furious as Jason but needed to focus on his task, the kid's life and Kilpatrick's too might depend on it.

Koala glowered at Holt. The soldier had been increasingly insolent, and he didn't like how Holt disrespected Katie. He handed the tools to Kasey, who was a whiz with anything mechanical, as he said, "Holt, go make yourself useful pumping up the inflatable boat with Danvers and Riley."

Holding his hand over his stomach, which revolted with every rock of the boat, Holt tried to explain again. "I didn't leave them alone on purpose. The kippers I ate for breakfast must've been bad. I need to—"

"Shut your fucking mouth, King of Shits," Sonny growled. Angry at the Aussie who failed to board the dive boat because he claimed to be in the bathroom with diarrhea. "You should've called and told us. Jason, Ray, Trent, Brock or I would've high-tailed it over there and went with them. You had one fucking job. Now we have no way to contact them."

His rage spiking again, Sonny rammed his index finger into Holt's chest with every shouted word. "IF EITHER COMES TO HARM, YOU WILL BECOME FISH FOOD!"

"ENOUGH, QUINN," Jason barked, although he totally agreed. "Go help Trent and Brock."

"With what?" Sonny bit back.

Raking a hand through his hair, because frankly there wasn't a damned thing any of them could do until Ray got the engine going or they finished inflating the small rubber emergency dingy, which unfortunately would only fit four of them, Jason halted and locked his gaze on Sonny.

Recognizing Jason's concern, Sonny dialed it back. "I'll go check with Trent if anyone's responded to our call for assistance." He shot one last, _you're dead meat_ , glare at Holt before stalking out of the engine room.

Following at a distance, not wanting to be anywhere near the hotheaded Yank, Holt skulked out realizing how badly he fucked up. He had been too wrapped up in his dislike of having a woman in the squad and failed to perform his primary task … covering a teammates' back.

Though in his defense, the intestinal purge took him by surprise this morning. Believing the dive master would wait for him to arrive, he never expected Kingfisher to leave port without a paying customer. Otherwise, he would've sucked up the embarrassment of making a phone call to Koala while sitting on the crapper as his breakfast made a loud and explosive exit from his arse.

Koala moved closer to Hayes and spoke in a soft tone. "I trust Katie to handle herself if things go sideways."

Jason nodded. "Trust Spenser too, but this is not how we operate. This is how people end up dead."

"I hear ya, mate. Holt will pay for his mistake."

"Don't give a flying fuck about Holt right now. The kid is a trouble magnet … not his fault, but when shit goes down, he ends up paying the price. Last time he was used as bait because he was the only one to fit the profile, a crossbow-wielding maniac drugged him then hunted and shot him in the ass with an arrow.

"Another time, a spook insisted Spenser was needed for an op for his language skills. Kid developed a kidney infection from our last op and was sick. He almost bled out after a hostile jumped him. The kicker, the fucking HVT spoke English, so Spenser didn't need to be there in the first place. Would've lost him if not for the Canadian unit arriving going after the same HVT. Blain's medic saved the kid.

"Months later the same spook, Carlson, retaliated after he was demoted for his screw up. He tried to kill my entire team. Again, the kid shouldn't have been there. He was still recovering from injuries sustained when he was sent with another unit. Spenser saved our asses when he overheard two men speaking Spanish. Carlson ended up torturing Clay and nearly killing him.

"Kid can't even go to an office party at an art gallery or out for ice cream without some weird crap happening to him." Jason leaned on the bulkhead. "Clay saved our lives again in Mexico, and ended up impaled on a whaling hook and almost hung." He blew out a breath. "As I said, I trust his abilities, but trouble always has a way of finding him, and the price is steep."

Koala listened, understanding the master chief's predicament. "Clay sounds an awful lot like my friend Dan Broderick. Blaze his former CO and Jon his current tactical leader, have told me the same thing about Dan. I witnessed it when we partnered in our testing cycle." A small chuckle eked out. "Perhaps it's karma which comes with being a bloody good blond, blue-eyed sniper."

At the mention of Blaze and a blond sniper, Jason asked, "Would this Dan perchance be Blondie?"

Surprise lit Koala's face as he nodded. "You know Blondie?"

"No, never met him. Just recalled Blain's men called him Blaze and his second in command, Winds I believe, talked about Clay being another Blondie."

Koala laid a hand on Hayes' shoulder. "Well, if that is true … I'm both happy and sad for you. If Clay is anything like Dan, he will go to the ends of the earth to protect the innocent and those he cares about. But you will likely go prematurely gray or bald trying to keep him alive in the process."

Sighing and letting his hand drop, Koala then said, "I believe I've got the female version of Blondie on my team. Since I'm already gray, Katie's probably gonna cause my hair to fall out."

Kasey chuckled listening to his CO and rubbed his chin. "At least she didn't pull your hair out by the roots like she did my beard. Last time I yank on a woman's braid."

* * *

 _ **Aboard the Karnivorous Kookaburra**_

Having searched below deck while Clay engaged Kingfisher in conversation to keep him distracted, Katie took a moment to scan the area, hoping to find a glimpse of the boat their teams were supposed to be on. Not finding another craft in the waters, her gut twisted in a knot, wondering yet again why Holt had not shown up. She now worried that his absence indicated more than a tardy arrival, especially after finding Karen Dilbert's bag shoved in a locker in the engine room.

 _Did our questions cause someone to panic? Did we do anything to alert Kingfisher? Where is Holt? What happened to him?_ Putting aside questions for which she didn't possess answers, Katie plastered a smile on and rejoined the guys. Only she and Clay were on the boat with Kingfisher, so if he was involved in the Dilbert's disappearance, which now she believed might be murder, they should be fine until the teams showed up.

"Sorry, I took so long, honey." Scanning the horizon, she allowed excitement to enter her voice to play her part. "We're almost to Keeling Island."

Mike Kingfisher grinned. "We'll anchor about a mile off the coast … an excellent place to dive. I was telling your husband, this time of year, you might be lucky to run across a pod of pygmy killer whales. They're known to be aggressive in captivity, but docile in the wild."

"Never heard of them," Katie lied, not wanting to appear to be a know-it-all, as she moved closer to Clay, searching for a way to clue him into what she found.

"A rare dolphin with the coloring of killer whales. They are a little bigger than a man. You'll probably see bottle-nose dolphins and turtles too. When you are finished with the deeper dives, we can move closer to the coral reefs. You'll find a plethora of fish, but keep an eye out for the kraits."

Clay scrunched his eyes. "Kites? Do people fly kites on the beach?"

Kingfisher laughed. "No, not kites … K.R.A.I.T.S … is pronounced kites. Kraits are venomous sea snakes. Just don't bother them and they won't bite you. But if you should be foolish enough to tangle with one, I carry antivenom in my med kit."

"Good to know." An idea popped into Katie's head. "Hey, honey, come help me cut up some of the kiwis. We should eat a little something before we dive."

Clay leaned over and kissed her. "Sure thing, beautiful." He stood and clasped her hand as they made their way inside to the small galley. He needed to share a few things with her he garnered from his conversation with Mike.

Katie pulled a knife from the rack as Clay grabbed a couple of kiwis from the hanging basket. She checked if they were alone, not that they wouldn't be since only the three of them were on the boat, before whispering. "Found a bag in a storage locker below. A tag inside said K. Dilbert. Kingfisher is lying about them not being on this boat."

Nodding, Clay spoke in hushed tones, "He let a few things slip when I queried him. He said Gareth Dilbert was a prick and his wife a bitch, and they didn't understand what it was like to struggle to make ends meet. He also said he hoped they drown. I think he might be into something illegal and the Dilbert's threatened to turn him in."

Katie's mind whirled as several seemingly unconnected things clicked into place. "I also found a spear gun, nets, hauling hooks, and several boxes containing shark teeth. It is illegal to fish in the protected waters of Pulu Keeling National Park.

"Though the popularity has waned via conservation efforts, there is still a market for shark fin soup. Those engaged in supplying the demand often use inhumane practices, finning the shark while alive and dumping them back into the ocean where they die because they are unable to swim."

Clay glanced to the opening leading up to the pilothouse as he soaked in what Katie shared. "Could be they stumbled on his operation, and he left them in the water. A mile from shore would only take a strong swimmer about twenty minutes to cover. A beginner could probably make in an hour if they took breaks."

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Katie sliced one of the fruits.

"Not sure, but perhaps the couple swam to the island. Since Kingfisher is the only tour operator to come to this side of Keeling island, they might try to make their way to the other side and set up some sort of distress signal."

Katie grinned. "Exactly what I was thinking. Wish we could contact our teams. Guess we'll have to play newlyweds a while longer until the cavalry arrives. Then we can confront Kingfisher and arrange for a search of Keeling."

Biting into the sweet fruit, Clay nodded. "We go along with our ruse and do the dive, perhaps have a bit more fun, and rescue the Dilbert's."

"Agreed." Katie tasted the other half of the kiwi, then pressed her lips to Clay's. Kissing him was becoming an enjoyable habit … one which must sadly come to an end shortly.

* * *

 _ **Aboard the Kobayashi Maru**_

As the engine roared to life, Ray bumped fists with Kasey. "We did it, brother."

"The bloody thing didn't stand a chance with us both working on her." Kasey grinned. "Though our speed will only be half of what we want."

"True, but better than rowing there in the inflatable." Ray started for the stairs. "You stay here and keep an eye on things. I'll let the bosses know we're back in business."

Reaching the pilothouse, Ray wiped his greasy hands on a towel. "It's going. We'll probably only achieve four knots, which is about five miles an hour. Slower than a sailboat, but faster than rowing, and we have communications here."

Trent shook his head. "Nope. The radio is fried. Davis did her best given the available crafts, but we're lucky this thing is still afloat."

"Satellite phone?" Ray asked, not liking that the radio was out. _No-win is truly a fitting name for this bucket of rusted steel._

Brock dumped three soaking wet phones on the table. "No dice. Circuitry is zapped. Can't even piece one together out of all three."

"How the hell did that happen? Those were in a waterproof bag." Ray stared at the team, his gaze ending on Jason.

Beyond pissed, Jason snapped out, "Fate, Karma, Evil Spirits, Klingons, take your pick. Whatever can go wrong has. At this speed, we'll be within range of North Keeling Island in two hours."

Leaning against a portal, Koala wished at least Holt's sat phone survived after he found the open bag under the leaking galley sink. But when Quinn sent Holt for a little swim at the dock with his punch, it was damaged too. "Will Blackburn be concerned when we miss the first checkpoint?"

Giving a slight incline of his head, Jason answered, "Yes, and without ISR in the air, he is blind. He'll likely start pushing your CO for sending out one of your patrol boats."

"Commander Kingston will assist, but response time will be slow. Although Cocos Keeling is within Australian maritime boundaries, the Navy doesn't routinely patrol this area. Will be at least a day before a ship arrives."

Sonny flung the fillet knife he had been fiddling with at the corkboard hanging on the wall. It landed dead center between the eyes of the hastily drawn face, which sort of matched Holt's features, complete with a blackened eye. "Well, the kiddos are fucked then if they need our help within the next couple of hours." He glared at Holt and drawled out menacingly, "Fish food."

Pivoting, Sonny stalked out for a breath of air. He wanted to punch something … someone … Holt … again as his inability to assist his little brother yet again assaulted him. The guilt for Mexico weighed heavy on his soul. Nightmares still plagued him, though he refused to share that with the guys. He continued to wake drenched in sweat to the screams of Clay as they hoisted him on the hook and the silence of the kid as they heaved him over the side of the building.

Brock approached Sonny … his brother still blamed himself for Clay's torture by Doza. They all knew it, though they remained quiet, allowing him time to work through his emotions, but Brock could stay silent no more.

Grasping the edge of the hull, standing beside Sonny, Brock said, "This isn't your fault, and neither was Mexico."

"Doesn't matter whose fault it is … the kid might need us, and we won't be there again. How can he still trust us … me? I let him down repeatedly." Sonny stared at the open ocean. "If I could reach him sooner by swimming, I'd jump in the damned ocean right now … sharks be damned. I'd punch their lights out if any of them tried to stop me."

Finding an opportunity to use humor, Brock chuckled. "Now, Sonny KO'ing sharks is something I would pay to watch. Poor things won't stand a chance if they are between you and Spenser."

Sonny turned his head to Brock and noted the smile, which caused a small one to grow for him. "I'd be King of the Coral Ring."

"Nah, you'd be a Killer Whale."

"You calling me fat? I'll have you know this is all muscle." Sonny patted his stomach.

"No, I wasn't saying that. Read in a magazine that orcas recently killed three great white sharks and their carcasses washed ashore in the region of Kleinbaai, a small harbor town in the Western Cape of South Africa. The killer whales only ate the shark's livers. So, Orcas are one of the most versatile and fearsome apex predators in the world. Just like the Mighty Quinn."

Brock returned his gaze to the horizon. "We'll be there soon, and we'll deal with whatever we find." He sighed. "And the kid trusts you because you always have his back. He doesn't blame you and understands shit happens. He never doubts you will be there for him … just like the rest of us."

* * *

 _ **Karnivorous Kookaburra – Deck**_

Preparing to pull on the top portion of his favorite wetsuit, Clay tugged off his t-shirt and caught Kingfisher staring at him. Believing it was his scars that captured the man's attention, Clay shrugged and deflected, "They are from a nasty accident when I was drunk."

Kingfisher stared at the tattoo on the inside of the right bicep. An avid enthusiast of military action movies and books, he took the opportunity to listen to Ash Spenser speak at a book signing in Perth last year. The ex-SEAL sported the same tattoo, but on the outside of his bicep.

He recalled the man saying only members of DEVGRU got them. _Hell, this bloke resembles a younger version of the author._ His satellite phone ringing interrupted Kingfisher's thought. "Excuse me. Don't go in until I return. I haven't dropped the anchor yet." Kingfisher squeezed past the female to enter the galley and hurried to answer the phone.

After shoving his arms into the long-sleeved neoprene material, Clay zipped up and grinned as Katie exited wearing a shorty which left her shapely legs visible. When she came near enough, he whispered, "Did you hear that?"

Katie gave him a slight nod. "Sat phone. We can use that if needed. Easier to sneak it away and make a call than using the radio." Katie took a seat facing the back of the boat as she bent over and pulled on her boots. "Why the full suit and not a spring suit?"

Clay shrugged. "This one is comfortable. I'm used to it."

She nodded, understanding, but spent several moments eyeing the form-fitting, all black, steamer suit which covered Clay's body from ankle to collar. _The SEAL must have his dive suit broken in just how he likes … it sure fits him like a glove. He is one fine silkie._ Shaking the thought away, she said, "So which one of us should divert Kingfisher?"

* * *

 _ **Karnivorous Kookaburra – Galley**_

"Hello," Kingfisher answered.

Keller paced in his office. "Think we got a problem. Might be a coincidence but …"

"What?"

"Old Bertie was in for lunch at the beachside bar today. He was bragging about making a king-sized haul without doing any work. Apparently, he rented his rust bucket to a bunch of men for the day. Said the woman who called to arrange the rental was willing to pay way more than necessary.

"When Bertie saw me, he came over and voiced concern about his most recent charter. Well into his cups, his mouth opened and didn't shut, most at the bar discounted the conversation as that of a rambling drunkard, but I believe him.

"He said the blokes boarded the Kobayashi Maru carrying large duffels, and from their shape, he thought some might be rifles. When no one was in the galley, Bertie opened one of them and found three satellite phones. He dropped the bag quick and kicked it under the galley sink when they came in.

"As he gave instructions to the men on how to operate his piece of flotsam, he said some spoke with American accents while the others were Aussies. When he finished and was stepping onto the dock to untie the mooring lines, another mate raced towards the boat.

"Bertie only caught pieces of the conversation but overheard the bloke say something about being sorry he missed the Karnivorous Kookaburra because his brekkie caused a bad case of the trots. When the latecomer told them Clay and Katie would not be able to contact them if things went haywire, one of the American's decked him, knocking him into the water.

"A burly Aussie with gray hair yelled at their straggler as he helped him back into the boat, before turning to the tall black-haired American and said, 'Holt's got kangaroos loose in the top paddock.' By their language and mannerisms, Bertie believes they are all Diggers."

Kingfisher moved further into the boat, heading down the stairs to the engine room as Keller spoke, and his mind started connecting the dots. The strange questions from Clay about the Dilbert's took on an ominous meaning. Once out of earshot, he said, "I agree with Bertie. They are likely soldiers. The guy, Clay, has the same tattoo I once saw on a former SEAL."

Keller stopped and peered out his widow. "Did anyone see them board your boat?"

"No, don't think so. We left before first light." Kingfisher opened his storage box.

"Why did you leave without the third customer?"

"Dunno, he just set me off wrong when he came by yesterday. The bloke flashed cash and said he'd pay whatever so long as he could go today. Told him not to be late and I don't give refunds." Kingfisher pulled out his seven-inch-long high carbon steel knife from its sheath as his memory clicked. "Crickey, I know what set me off. The arrogant man said, 'Yes you do. You refunded the Dilbert's when they didn't show.'"

"Bloody hell! Someone is definitely poking around into their disappearance." Keller paced again. "How did the couple you have onboard now pay for the tour?"

"Cash." He lifted his speargun and let the lid of the box slam down.

"You need to get rid of them. Since no one saw them board, nobody can say they went with you. It will be another unexplained disappearance."

"Way ahead of you. They're about to go in the water. They won't be coming out. Might net me a few shark fins when the beasties scent their blood and come to feed on their bodies."

"Good. I'll start damage control here. Call me once they're dead." Keller hung up.

Kingfisher set the phone down, grinned, and headed out. Time to go hunting.

* * *

 _ **Karnivorous Kookaburra – Deck**_

Clay rose to grab his wetsuit boots after a quick pow-wow with Katie. After their dive, he would divert Kingfisher's attention again, and she would snag the phone and attempt to contact HAVOC who would tie them in with Bravo. They had discussed confronting him now, but with no weapons, it would be less risky to wait since they had no idea who Kingfisher was speaking to.

Katie insisted another boat might be just beyond their view and if so, they could be armed and if they spooked Kingfisher, things might become a dog's breakfast quick. Clay had chuckled at the term until she explained it was slang for something going terribly wrong.

Pivoting to his left to reach for the boots, Clay glimpsed something which turned him to ice for a split second. He launched himself at Katie just as Kingfisher fired a snub-nose pneumatic speargun. The barbed spear embedded itself in the back of his outer left thigh and he grunted in pain as he and Katie slammed into the deck.

"Bloody hell!" Kingfisher yelled, angry the man foiled his kill-shot which would've pierced Katie's back and heart. He yanked on the thin steel cable attached to the shaft to set the barb, ensuring Clay would be hindered by having the shaft sticking out of his thigh.

Katie's head smacked into the hull, stunning her. She rolled to the side, trying to focus and the first thing she saw was a spear in Clay's thigh, and she heard his cry of pain as the spear jerked.

"What is it with me and fucking arrows and hooks?" Clay mumbled as he pushed himself up, needing to protect Katie who still lay on the deck. He turned and faced off against Kingfisher, his eyes darting around searching for anything he could use as a weapon.

Coming up empty, Clay let out a roar to startle his opponent, as he rushed forward, hoping adrenaline would kick in fast to cover his agony and give him the strength to bring the son of a bitch down. Clay had one shot to disarm Kingfisher, so he went straight for the right hand which held a gnarly-looking knife.

Using a Krav Maga technique, his left hand struck out in an upward sweeping motion towards the outside of Kingfisher's right wrist as he planted his left foot, and used his right to deliver a scoop kick to the man's nuts. The knife went skittering across the deck as Kingfisher dropped to his knees clutching his family jewels.

Clay's move cost him, the pain in his left leg spiked and sent him to the decking too, his vision fading as he barely clung to consciousness.

Katie grabbed for the blade as it slid to her. Recovering the air knocked out of her lungs, Katie inhaled deeply, blinked to clear her vision, and came up in a defensive crouch. She assessed the situation. Both Clay and Kingfisher were down, a puddle of blood forming under Clay's upper leg. Katie noted Clay's pain-filled eyes as their gazes met for only a moment before she refocused on the target. "Stay down, and you live. Don't move or I'll gut you."

Peering up at the bitch, Kingfisher snarled, "You can try, Sheila, but you will fail. You are no match for a man." His hand grabbed the spear's cable lying in front of him and yanked.

"Arrrghh," ripped from Clay's mouth as fire renewed in his leg before he clenched his jaw.

"Drop the cable," Katie demanded, her heart wrenching for Clay. He saved her life and now … she had to save his. She needed to restrain Kingfisher to tend to Clay's wound.

"Or what?" Kingfisher taunted as he wrapped the line around his hand.

"Put it down. Now!"

Kingfisher grinned, believing he had the upper hand. Although not armed, he could cause pain and more damage to the man lying on the deck. "I think not. You are going to give me the knife, or I rip this out." He lifted the wire, pulling a little to show her he was serious. "I'm well acquainted with the size of the hole this produces if it is yanked out rather than pushed through. The barb has expanded inside his thigh. It will tear through flesh creating a gaping hole, and he'll bleed out faster."

Katie bit her lower lip. She too understood the damage a barbed spear could do. Her granddad took her spearfishing several times when she was a teenager.

Not wanting Katie to disarm, Clay took Katie's decision away from her. While both Katie's and Kingfisher's attention were riveted on one another, he rolled, positioning the back of the spear against the hull. In a swift motion, he pushed his leg backward causing the spear to finish its trajectory.

When the spear's tip broke through his skin and the wetsuit on the front of his leg, Clay grunted in pain as he grasped the shaft and pulled it the rest of the way through his leg. The narrow tunnel he created did less damage than if Kingfisher yanked it out the back of his thigh.

Unfortunately, the thin cable which was attached to both barrel and shaft now threaded through his leg. Clay's fist tightened on the spear to prevent more damage if Kingfisher tried to pull the line. Intense waves of pain caused Clay's vision to dim at the edges, but he fought to hang on and used sniper breathing to ride the downward crest.

Regrettably, his act was for naught. Katie's attention wavered for only a fraction of a second when Clay groaned, which was all Kingfisher needed. He dropped the steel cable, more interested in obtaining his knife, as he lunged upward, tackling Katie. They went down in a heap at the stern, Katie's head hitting the hull for the second time in only minutes. Somewhat dazed, her vision slightly blurred, she fought to retain control of the knife and to get out from underneath the muscular man pinning her with his weight as he straddled her midsection.

Digging deep for reserves, finding adrenaline starting to diminish his pain, Clay released the shaft, needing both hands to pull himself up to his knees using the bench seat. Panting and in agony, he finally gained his feet and hobbled towards the two wrestling at the stern … the spear and barrel dragging behind him.

"Let her go!" Clay commanded as he approached, but Kingfisher ignored him. One of the bastard's hands encircled Katie's wrist trying to snap it to loosen her grip on the knife's hilt. The other huge hand clamped on Katie's throat, squeezing the life out of her.

Katie's free hand sought to break Kingfisher's hold on her throat as she bucked and twisted beneath him. She tried to position her booted feet to provide leverage to extricate herself, but the continued lack of oxygen, aided by two hard knocks to the head, caused Katie to blackout.

Seeing Katie go limp, fearing Kingfisher killed her, Clay dropped onto Kingfisher's back and put the man in a headlock. Using all his might, he applied crushing pressure, intending to dispatch Kingfisher to Hell for hurting Katie.

Unable to breathe, Kingfisher released his holds on the woman, as the fingers of both his hands moved upward to claw at the vice strangling his throat. In a last-ditch effort to dislodge Clay before his air ran out, Kingfisher reared up and backward to ram the blond man into the side of the boat.

Not wanting to let go until the man was dead, Clay's body moved with Kingfisher's until the back of his calves came in contact with the gunwhale. He released his hold as his hands wildly sought purchase on anything solid but found nothing as he keeled over the edge, the spear going with him.

Clay sank as the salt water in his wound caused renewed agony. His body came to an abrupt halt, and he realized the barrel remained onboard. _Hooked like a damned fish again._ He used his arms and right leg to rise to the surface. _I need to get back on the boat and save Katie._

Sucking in a deep breath through her burning throat, Katie returned to consciousness. The splash alerted her someone went into the water. As she blinked to restore her focus, Kingfisher's laugh told it must be Clay, and her thought was confirmed when Kingfisher snarled, "You're next, bitch!"

Scrambling up, she struck out with the blade as Kingfisher moved towards her, creating a long gash across the man's upper chest. He possessed longer arms, so his strike caught her on the jaw, sending her careening to the side. She wobbled a moment but lashed out again. This time gouging a deep trail through Kingfisher's gut, causing him to bend over and once again hit his knees as he screamed in agony.

She would've subdued him, but the flexible metal line from the speargun had wrapped around her ankle, and as she moved forward, Kingfisher seized the barrel and tossed it overboard. With the shaft and barrel in the water, the line running through Clay's thigh, her ankle tangled in the same cable, and a shove from Kingfisher, Katie joined Clay in the Indian Ocean.

* * *

 _ **Keeling Islands – Airfield on West Island – HAVOC**_

Ellis entered the medium sized warehouse at the airfield they set up as a temporary TOC after arriving on West Island yesterday. She, Blackburn, Davis, and a few technical support members came after the teams, everyone flying the commercial flights to avoid raising suspicions among the tiny local population.

Most of the six hundred or so residents were Sunni Muslims, and although she didn't want to stereotype, Mandy couldn't discount the Dilbert's disappearance might be terrorist related. An insurgent group may have learned of their honeymoon plans and kidnapped them, hoping to force one or the other to divulge secrets which could be used against either the U.S. or Australian forces.

She grinned as she peered at their info board and spotted the ID photos they used to create fake identities for Spencer and Kilpatrick. She was tasked with coming up with a last name for them, though they would use their real first names to avoid problems. As she took a seat, Mandy recalled how she came up with the name.

The day they arrived in Perth, Katie had swept Clay off for a private briefing while the rest of them met with Commander Kingston of the Australian Special Ops. They finished before Clay and Katie returned, and she walked down the hall in search of her quarters for a quick nap before tackling her tasks. Movement in a conference room caused her to peeked through the window in the door. She spied Spenser and Kilpatrick in a heavy lip-lock.

Mandy emitted a soft chuckle when the image of Clay's eyes rounding and his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink when she handed him his ID came to mind. Katie only laughed and said she liked the unique name … Clay Kissingher.

Eric placed both palms on the table and leaned forward as he blew out a breath. This operation didn't sit well with him. He believed his men … his team was being misused. He directed his comment to Ellis, "They are assaulters, not detectives. The CIA or whatever equivalent in Australia should've sent in spooks to figure out what happened to the couple. Then when they found them and if they needed to be rescued, Bravo sent in."

Pulled from her pleasant thoughts, Mandy sighed. "I don't disagree. I'm not happy with what Clay is being asked to do any more than all of you. Argentina was bad enough, and I've pushed back on other ops that wanted to use Clay as bait or for his language skills, especially after the Carlson fiasco … correct that, both Carlson fiascos. But my hands were tied on this one."

Lisa had listened to this same conversation several times now. She peered at both of them and said, "Not helping in the least to rehash. The guys are overdue for their first check-in by an hour, and I can't raise them on the radio or via sat phone. I'm not comfortable with the boat I acquired for them, but it was the only one available. Are you certain we can't get ISR overhead?"

Eric straightened and raked his fingers through his hair. "Still a no go, but the USS Kearsarge, an amphibious assault ship is currently on deployment in the international waters of the Indian Ocean and within a six-hour window of the Keeling Islands. I've been in contact with Captain Kavanagh, and he assures me if we need resources, he can launch up to six Seahawks.

"Additionally, Commander Kingston, ordered one of the Aussie's patrol boats to the area yesterday. They will be standing by to assist if necessary. Although they do not possess helos."

Lisa finally grinned. Blackburn had worked some magic of his own. "How much longer do we give them before we start searching for them?"

"A half hour. If they haven't checked in, I'll contact Commander Kingston and have the Aussies begin a search grid based on the course Jason communicated they planned to take. I'll put Captain Kavanagh on alert too that we might need his help."

Lisa and Mandy both nodded.

* * *

 _ **Indian Ocean**_

Katie's first concern when hitting the water was Clay, and apparently, his was her. In the less than thirty seconds they took to survey each other, the boat roared to life and sped away. Had Kingfisher dropped anchor instead of allowing the boat to drift while they prepared to dive, they would've had a minute or so to climb aboard … but he didn't, and now they were bobbing in the middle of the ocean.

His voice pained, Clay said, "Only about a mile to shore. I can make it, can you?"

Treading water, Katie took in the paling face beside her. "You're not gonna last long unless I can stop the bleeding."

Clay realized the weight of the shaft and the speargun, although not significant, would drain his energy and hinder his ability to swim. "Can you cut the cable and pull the wire out of my leg?"

Sadly, Katie shook her head. "Although it is thin, it is steel and this knife won't severe it. But I have an idea that will help with both the weight and slow the bleeding. Give me your arm."

"What are you going to do?" Clay extended his arm, trusting her.

"Sorry, but I need to ruin your wetsuit. Gonna cut off the sleeve and use the material as a compression bandage. I'll disconnect the reel from the speargun, and with the first wrap of the neoprene strip, I'll cover your wound and on the second, fasten both the shaft and the reel to your leg, so they don't drag. They may provide more stable pressure against both wounds, but you won't be able to bend your leg without risking further damage."

"Yeah, okay." As she sliced through the synthetic rubber at his shoulder, another worry popped into Clay's head. "Sharks … won't they be attracted by the scent of my blood?"

Katie sucked in a breath and stopped a moment as she gazed into his eyes as she found courage. "We'll deal with that if it comes to pass. Right now, I need to slow the blood loss."

"Promise … if they come … you swim like hell away from me." Clay's blue orbs bore into Katie's azure eyes. "Promise me."

"I can't."

"Dammit, I'm not going to be the cause of your death," Clay ground out.

"Oh, but I can be yours? You got speared saving my life. Shut up and let me try and save yours." Katie cut at the fabric viciously, the thought of losing Clay to a shark attack tore at her soul.

Realizing he wouldn't win her concession, and the conversation detracted from what they needed to do, Clay shut his mouth. As Katie pulled the barrel up and used the knife as a screwdriver to detach the reel, a solution came to mind. One Katie would not like, but he wouldn't be swayed from.

As the speargun separated from the reel's casing, Katie allowed the unneeded piece to drop as she said, "Alright, this is gonna sting a bit, but I'm going to pull the wire through to so this reel is flush against the back of your thigh. I need you to float on your back, so I can see what I'm doing."

Clay did as requested, grimacing and holding tight to the spear as she carefully threaded the cable through his wound and created securing twists in the wire on both sides to prevent the wire from sliding and slicing further. Groaning when she made the first pass to cover her wire knots and pulled the makeshift bandage tight, Clay gathered up the loose wire in his hand. When Katie reached for it, intending to bind it to his thigh, he refused to give it to her.

"What are you doing?" Katie wiped the water from her face as a wave splashed her.

"Need a weapon."

Katie's eyes nearly bugged out as comprehension hit her like a tidal wave. "You can't use that! It is attached to you. If you spear a shark, you'll be attached to it. You'll die."

"And you might live." Glad for adrenaline masking much of his pain, but aware it wouldn't last much longer, Clay began swimming. He used a combat sidestroke, a super-efficient stroke, which would maximize the distance he could travel before depleting his energy.

Frustrated with Clay, but having no choice, Katie followed him and prayed they didn't encounter any sharks.

* * *

 ** _North Keeling Island_**

"Almost there. Stay with me. Please," Katie begged, the fear in her voice clear. They had been swimming for an hour or so. Clay managed a decent stroke for about ten minutes, but the amount of blood he lost zapped him.

For the next thirty-five minutes, she urged him to take a few strokes and then they floated while he rested. The rest periods lasted longer than the swimming. For the last fifteen minutes, she mostly positioned Clay on his back using a cross-chest carry, keeping his head above water as she did a modified back-sidestroke.

Several times he insisted he could swim, and she let him try, but after one or two strokes he would flounder again. That he made it this far… _hell, the fact he was still alive_... amazed her.

Katie wasn't too happy about the coral reef they needed to go through, but she wanted to get Clay out of the water as fast as possible, so she chose the shortest route to land. "Watch your feet. The reef can slice them bad," Katie said as she put her protected booted foot on a coral shelf. Preparing to take a short breather before tackling the remainder of the distance, she hoped she would have enough energy left to drag him out of the water.

Floating in and out of awareness, Clay heard Katie. "Hmm k." He rolled away from her, trying to swim by himself again.

"Hey, hey … no! Clay. Let me." Her words fell on deaf ears, and he managed to pull away. Her own strength almost gone, trying to hold him proved impossible.

Clay began to swim, but he ran out of gas and began to sink. In the clear water, he spied the white sand of shore not too distant. Only partially thinking, forgetting he didn't wear the gloves he normally did, he reached out to grasp the pretty blue and black coral to propel himself forward. The rock moved, and a stinging sensation in his palm caused him to yank his hand away at the same moment Katie pulled him up to the surface.

"You idiot … we didn't come all this way for you to drown ten feet from shore," Katie huffed as tears welled in her eyes. _This man doesn't give up. His perseverance is a thing to behold._

His gaze fixated on the swimming coral. He mumbled, "Never seen rocks swim. Must not be in Kansas anymore, Toto."

"What?"

Clay pointed.

Katie turned to look as she maintained her hold on him. Clay had been somewhat less than lucid the last few minutes … an effect of blood loss to be sure. The small amount of blood mixing with water around his hand caught her attention first, but the motion beyond overrode all thoughts as she glimpsed the almost four-foot-long yellow-lipped sea krait moving away. The distinctive blueish gray krait banded with uniform width black rings and paddle-like tail spurred her into action.

"Did it bite you?" Katie said as she grabbed for his hand and flipped it over.

Clay chuckled. "Who's the idiot now … rocks don't bite."

Katie's heart seized upon seeing the tell-tale sign of a snakebite, knowing the banded sea krait's venom was a very powerful neurotoxin, and depending on how much the krait injected, could be lethal. _No, oh God no! How am I going to save him now?_

 _._

 _ **... to be continued in AI-L**_

* * *

 **AN:** Hope you enjoyed the first of a multi-chapter story again. This will pick up with AI-L. Okay ... sorry, the evil muse made me leave this one on a cliffy, but at 14,000+ words it was getting rather long. Doing another chapter will allow me to incorporate all my ideas for this storyline.

Drop me a review and let me know what you think ... I love knowing what you like so I can do more of it.

Suggestions for L and M are welcome. Contributors for K are:

\- Kangaroo from NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Kaleidoscope from Megan Rachel  
\- Kansas from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Karate from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Karma from floopdeedoopdee, Juniper, L3gend78, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Keeling Over from Juniper  
\- Keen/keenly from floopdeedoopdee, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Keep/kept/keeping from Lunary  
\- Keepsake from Juniper  
\- Key from Juniper, L3gend78  
\- Kibble from Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Kick/kicking/kicked from floopdeedoopdee, Juniper, L3gend78, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Kid/kiddo from Juniper, Megan Rachel, NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Kidnap/kidnapped/kidnapping from becca, Juniper, L3gend78, Megan Rachel, NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Kidney from becca, floopdeedoopdee, Juniper, Megan Rachel, NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Kill/killed/killing/killer from becca, L3gend78, Megan Rachel, NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Killer Whale from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Killjoy from floopdeedoopdee, Juniper  
\- Kill-shot from Megan Rachel  
\- Kind/kind hearted/kindly from becca, floopdeedoopdee, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Kindred spirit from floopdeedoopdee  
\- King from becca, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Kingfisher from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Kingston from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Kiss/kissed/kissing from becca, Chgrgal, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Kite from Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Kiwi from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Knee/Kneecap/kneel/knelt/kneeling from Chgrgal, Juniper, L3gend78, Megan Rachel, NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Knife from Juniper, NetMyne01  
\- Knife from becca, L3gend78  
\- Knock from Megan Rachel  
\- Knockout/knocked out from becca, Chgrgal, L3gend78  
\- Knot/knotted from floopdeedoopdee  
\- Know from L3gend78  
\- Know-it-all from NetMyne01  
\- Knuckle/knuckles from Juniper, L3gend78, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Koala from Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx


	12. Loyalty and the Lost

**Loyalty and the Lost**

* * *

 ** _Aboard the Kobayashi Maru_**

Lambasting himself for his failure as he stood at the prow for the last hour, Holt scanned the horizon with binoculars. This was the safest place for him since every time Quinn spotted him, his glare sent daggers his way which lacerated him. The other men of Bravo were not any better, he was on everyone's shit list, including Koala's and the rest of his squad too. _If I could go back and change my behavior towards Katie, I would. If anything happens to her, the guys are gonna beat the shit out of me, and I'll deserve every punch._

Holt hoped Kilpatrick and Spenser were okay. He regretted his actions, by being such an utter ass. _She didn't deserve the attitude I threw her way. I may have jeopardized not only her life, but the Yank's as well._ Their continued safety and health would be the only way he would be allowed to remain on Koala's squad and if the Texan had his way, the boat. His Sarge and the American Master Chief put the lives of their teams ahead of all else, and Holt understood he broke a cardinal rule by allowing his personal opinion to put mates at risk.

Koala moved to the front of the boat, needing to ensure Holt's head was in the game. Later, he would be having an extensive conversation with him. He stopped beside his second in command and started to open his mouth, but Holt beat him to speaking.

"Sarge, I buggered things up. You can do whatever you feel is necessary when we return, but I vow I will not let you down again …" he trailed off as his eyes picked up something. "Two vessels off port side. I can just make them out. A smaller one like the dive boat and a larger trawler." He pointed in the direction and handed the binoculars to his CO.

Koala called out, "Hayes, check out your ten o'clock."

In the wheelhouse, Jason trained his field glasses to the left. "Two boats. Can't tell if it is the Karnivorous Kookaburra or not, but it is about the right size."

"I say we check it out," Ray waited for Jason's command before changing course.

Sonny shook his head. "It's not where they were going to be. If it isn't them, we'll be wasting time."

Jason considered both and made a decision. "We head for the boats. If not them, perhaps we can communicate with Blackburn, and they might have an extra radio or parts to fix this one."

Ray nodded. "Perhaps have a sat phone too."

"Sonny, Brock, Trent, break out the gear. I want everyone armed and ready on the off chance this is trouble," Jason said as his gut churned. The Dilbert couple had gone missing, and they still had no clue as to why.

One possibility entered Jason's head … pirates. They were only about six hundred nautical miles from the Lampung province on the southern tip of the Indonesian island of Sumatra which Mandy's briefing said was experiencing a rash of high-seas piracy. The only part which didn't fit nicely with his theory was Kingfisher had not been taken.

Though he supposed the dive master might've bought his freedom by telling the pirates who his high-profile and wealthy customers were, or he was in on it with them. To his thinking, it was a plausible scenario.

Ransom demands sometimes took several weeks to be sent in this type of situation, or they might be trying to sell them to a terrorist faction in which case a ransom would never be sent. So, Jason would take necessary precautions to keep the teams safe and not be blindsided by an attack.

* * *

 ** _Aboard the Labeeba Trawler_**

Kingfisher lay on the deck of Luncai's fishing trawler, moaning in pain as the ship's medic applied pressure to his gut wound. He radioed Luncai hoping he was in the area because Kingfisher knew he couldn't make it back to port without help.

"Jadi bagaimana ini berlaku?" Luncai asked how this happened in his native Malay, staring down with contempt at the man who supplied him with shark fins from time to time.

"After I speared the Shelia in the heart and threw her over the side, the SEAL came at me with a fourteen-inch knife. He got in two lucky swipes before I disarmed him and slit his throat before tossing him overboard," Kingfisher lied, hiding the fact a woman gutted him and embellishing the size of the knife.

"Are they dead like the other couple?" Luncai switched to English as he crouched down, wondering if he should finish the job and be rid of Kingfisher. Of late, this man brought too much notice to his illegal fishing operation by being stupid. He considered dumping Kingfisher's bleeding carcass over the side because with his freezers full, Luncai needed to head back to his home port on Legundi Island, and it would be a long seven-hundred-mile journey.

"Of course. The sharks had a feast." Kingfisher shrieked as the questionable physician used an unsterile staple gun to close the wound in his stomach.

"Captain, the Kobayashi Maru is approaching."

Luncai stood, wondering what the old fisherman was doing out. Rarely was Bertie sober enough and his boat was not what Luncai would call seaworthy.

Kingfisher's eyes rounded. "Keller said Bertie rented his boat to a bunch of soldiers. They must be looking for the Dilberts just like the couple I killed. You must kill them too, or they might find out about your business."

Luncai kicked Kingfisher in the side, and as the man shrieked, he shouted, "This is your fault." He turned to his first mate and spoke Malay, "Let them come close before you open fire. No survivors. Then sink the boat." He started to stride to the wheelhouse as his medic spoke.

"What do you want me to do with Kingfisher?"

Turning back to glare at the blubbering man on his deck, Luncai instructed, "Leave him lying there. If he catches a bullet in the crossfire, it is no loss."

* * *

 _ **Keeling Island**_

"A little further. Almost there," Katie encouraged as they both crawled out of the ocean. She wished she had the strength to carry Clay, but she was zapped after their hour or so in the water and keeping him afloat. She was grateful and in awe of Clay's perseverance and stamina.

His upper body beyond the reach of the surf at high tide, his left leg straight behind him, his arms like rubber, his right leg bending at the knee to help propel him forward, Clay pushed one last time. Empty, no fumes remaining, he lowered his cheek to the sand, and he finally released his death grip on the spear. "Can't."

"Please …" Katie got to her knees.

"Wanna laze … on the sand … no more … blue lagoon."

"That's right, no more water, but you're not quite there yet, Silkie. You can rest in a moment." Katie needed the SEAL on dry land. "Roll to your back."

Clay tried to push himself over but failed.

"Okay, alright. I'll help." Katie scooted closer, pushed him, and he flopped like a limp noodle onto his back.

Gazing up at the cloudless sky, Clay sighed. "Didn't drown."

"Wasn't gonna let you." Katie moved to the top of Clay so she could slide her hands under his shoulders and into his armpits. She hoped to have enough oomph left to drag him further up the beach. She sat on her heels, gathering energy.

"Ash-hole didn't win … keeps trying to … drag me down … not gonna let him win. Dolphins saved me."

Katie put a hand on Clay's brow to check for fever. Not likely this quick, but his words made little sense. He was a little warm, so she ignored his words and slipped both hands under him. "Need you to push with your right foot, don't try to use your left. On three. One, two, three."

She pulled with all her might, and luckily Clay assisted by pushing. "Again. One, two, three." Katie panted, and she noticed Clay's face contorted in a grimace. "One more time." Almost out of the ocean's reach, Katie's arms shook with exhaustion, but she wouldn't give up. "Okay, just one more and you can rest."

Clay bent his knee again, dug his bare right heel into the sand, and pushed with everything he had when Katie said three. His body shuddered and his eyes closed.

"Hey, no. No! Clay. Stay awake."

He mumbled, "Not sleeping. Can't move more … sorry."

"You did good. Rest now." Katie wanted to collapse beside him, but she couldn't. Using the knife, she started slicing off a strip of his remaining sleeve. She needed to put a tourniquet on his left forearm to slow the progress of the venom. She wished the Karnivorous Kookaburra was here so she could use the antivenom Kingfisher said he carried in the med kit, but wishing didn't make it so.

She began to review the symptoms she needed to watch for … unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately, she had experience dealing with snake bites, though they were land based ones and not kraits.

Clay drifted, escaping from his pain in a semiconscious state as ludicrous images floated in his mind. A sea nymph with long, flowing wheat-colored hair and Katie's features supported him as he held his trident at the ready to fight off the great white shark with Ash's face trying to attack him. His shark father couldn't break through the protective barrier created by pygmy killer whales bearing the faces of Jason, Sonny, Trent, Brock, and Ray. Cerberus, in the form of a seal … an ocean puppy … swam next to him, barking commands to the Bravo dolphins while a kookaburra flew overhead laughing at him.

Intense pain in his lower left arm caused Clay's eyes to pop open as he sucked in a breath. "Sonofabitch."

"Sorry, needs to be tight."

Katie's face swam before him as his stomach flipped. "Gonna be …" he gagged, found himself roughly turned on his right just before he puked. Kiwi tasted lousy coming up. He spat several times wishing for water to rinse. Drained again, he flopped to his back and squeezed his eyes closed.

"Stay here … I won't be gone long," Katie ordered as she rose to unsteady legs.

Clay snorted. _Where the fuck would I go? I can't even sit up at the moment._ "Yeah, K."

Scanning the area, Katie started towards the palms at the edge of the beach. With any luck, she would find some coconuts on the ground and manage to crack them open to provide both of them some liquid and nourishment.

* * *

 _ **Aboard the Kobayashi Maru**_

Ray peered through his high-powered sniper scope. "Jace, the boat tied up next to the Labeeba trawler is the Karnivorous Kookaburra, that's Kingfisher's boat. I don't see the kid or Katie though." Moving to view the trawler, Ray hollered, "Take cover!" right before pinging sounds of bullets hitting metal erupted around them.

Someone slammed Sonny into the decking. With a heavy weight on top of him, Quinn yelled, "GET THE FUCK OFF ME, HOLT!" as he tried to shift the Aussie off.

"THREE, STATUS?" Jason shouted slipping into mission language as the men on the fishing trawler opened up on them and everyone dove for cover.

"No harm … unless you consider being pinned by this asshole!" Sonny responded as he pushed on the larger man.

"HOLT!" Koala bellowed when his second in command failed to move.

Realization hit both Sonny and Koala at the same time. Koala scrambled to them just as Sonny managed to roll Holt over and both spied blood seeping from a gut wound.

"SHIT! Man down." Sonny reached out to apply pressure to the exit wound as he comprehended Holt saved his life … took a bullet meant for him.

"BLOODY HELL!" Koala added his pressure to the entrance hole on Holt's back. "Hang on, mate. Don't you go anywhere."

Holt's eyes fluttered open. He sucked in a ragged breath and moaned as his gaze landed on Koala. "Not … going …"

"Shut up … don't talk. Save your energy," Sonny said before swiveling his head. "TRENT!"

Dragging his med kit with him, avoiding lifting his head above the short hull which protected them from the continuing onslaught of bullets, Trent crawled to them. "I got you." The massive amount of blood loss so fast concerned him. He turned to Koala. "Blood type?"

"AB positive," Koala answered, fear he might lose Holt increasing, but his mind slipping into combat mode.

"Good. He can take any type then." Trent set to work while the rest of the men returned gunfire. He started the transfusion then began to address stopping the bleeding.

When Trent told him to move, Sonny shifted and removed his hands. He took one moment to stare at his blood-covered fingers. Rage built in him, and he gripped his weapon, ready to make whoever the assholes were that were firing at them pay for what they had done. He and Holt might not be on the same page, the same team, but they were in the same brotherhood … men willing to risk their lives, so the cake-eaters of the world remained safe.

As an explosion erupted in a fireball at the rear of their boat … something blowing the engine to kingdom come, Jason called out, "Two, Five, launch the dingy and our gear in the water on the other side. Three, Four, move Holt to the craft for safety."

Koala directed his men, "Danvers, Riley, help them. Kasey, keep laying down cover fire." He joined Jason, firing at the trawler too. "How do you want to play this?"

Assessing the situation, Jason said, "Bravo minus Trent will dive and swim under their vessel while you and your men keep them busy. We'll come up on the other side and while they are distracted, board and take them out."

"Solid plan." Koala agreed, and the men set to work.

Once Holt was transferred into the inflatable boat with Trent still tending him, Danvers and Riley joined their teammates in engaging the hostiles as Bravo pulled on their mini-rebreathers and prepared to dive.

* * *

 ** _Keeling Island_**

Gone much longer than she expected, hating to leave Clay alone so long, but not having a choice, Katie knelt and used the knife and a rock, to poke holes in several coconuts. She moved closer to Clay who had not even acknowledged her return. Worried, she lifted his head with one hand as she tipped the coconut and dribbled a little of the milk on his lips hoping his mouth would open automatically. "Open up. You need to drink."

Clay's tongue darted out, licking his dry lips, tasting something sweet. His lashes fluttered open, but he was not truly conscious of his surroundings. When more liquid trickled in, he swallowed, the tepid fluid soothing his parched throat.

"Good. Only little sips." Katie continued to feed Clay small amounts as she breathed both a sigh of relief and bit her lower lip, bothered by the increased heat radiating from Clay. An infection had set in, and she had nothing to treat him with, but at least he was still breathing. The neurotoxin of the krait could cause paralysis and if that occurred his lungs would cease working, and he would die from lack of oxygen.

When Clay's lids shut and head lolled to the side, letting the precious life-giving elixir dribble out, Katie stopped and lowered his head to the sand once more. She tilted her head back and took a long drink, sating her thirst. Gazing out at the Indian Ocean, she prayed for a miracle … for her squad and Clay's team to locate them before an incredible man died.

Clay's mumbling brought Katie's attention back to him. "Not me … not source … please … believe. Ashhole … wants to drown me."

Katie wondered if he kept saying asshole because it sounded like ash hole, but she only brushed through his hair and whispered, "Hush, I'm here. I won't let you drown. Stay still. Shhhh. You'll be alright."

Locked in a feverish nightmare, the inferno fed by real-life, Clay relived the confrontation with Bravo team after the interview with his father aired, but his fears twisted the events.

* * *

 ** _Clay's Nightmare_**

Sitting at the local bar, gaping at the TV … anger … rage … fury … disappointment, and a perception of paternal betrayal yet again filled Clay. He should've never gotten his hopes up that his father legitimately wanted to establish some sort of normalish relationship with him. He had ample experience which proved the man only cared about himself.

 _Now the reason for Ash coming to my apartment several days ago is clear. Ash invited me out to a public place for a 'friendly' beer to establish me … his own son … his flesh and blood … as the source of his information. Why? What did I ever do to the guy to make him want to ruin my life? The brass … hell Bravo team is going to believe I'm the source, though I never said a damned thing except … maybe._

"Clay, son, sorry about the call. So, the manuscript … I'll bring a copy over—"

Livid, Clay's right fist smashed into Ash's jaw as he roared, "STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! I DON'T WANT A GODDAMNED THING TO DO WITH YOU. YOU CAN SHOVE THAT MANUSCRIPT UP YOUR ASS!"

He stormed out of the bar and hopped into his car, never looking back, not caring one whit what his loutish old man thought. The ashhole could vanish from the earth and Clay wouldn't shed a tear.

After driving erratically, making unsafe lane changes which would cost him his license if a cop had spotted him, Clay pulled to a stop in the DEVGRU parking lot … his mustang crooked and taking up two spaces. He needed to be where he felt safe and wanted … in the place of true family … with his brothers.

He pushed open the door to the Bravo lockers, took five steps inside, expecting it to be empty, yet still a place of refuge from the onslaught of emotions his father's betrayal created. Clay halted dead in his tracks as five angry men glared at him. He opened his mouth, "It's not me. I'm not the source. Please believe me. Ashhole is trying to drag me down."

Jason shook his head. Fury in his eyes as he bellowed, "LIAR! HOW CAN WE BELIEVE YOU? HOW ELSE WOULD ASH FIND OUT ABOUT THE MISSION? NONE OF US WOULD EVER TALK TO HIM. TO THINK I EVER CONSIDERED YOU FAMILY."

The left hook caught Clay off guard, and he stumbled backward, closer to his cage. Clay's hands came up in supplication as his blue eyes filled with tears at Jason's verbal and physical rejection. "Please … believe … I didn't say anything."

Sonny growled, "And here we thought you were trustworthy, but you're a liability. I thought of you as a little brother." He lunged, lassoing Spenser's throat with his hand and slammed him against wire cage, squeezing. "Apple doesn't fall far from the tree. You're as loyal and loathsome as your asshole dad."

Lightheaded, Clay tried to speak, croaked out a, "No," but Sonny's grip on his larynx tightened cutting off his air, causing bursts of light to flash before his eyes.

Trent yanked Sonny off, and as Clay gasped for breath, he hoped at least one of them believed him. He was disabused of that notion as Trent's finger jabbed his chest several times, hard enough to bruise a lung. "I spent precious time and resources saving your lousy ass multiple times. You don't deserve to be here. I want to rip out your liver and feed it to the rabid leopard in the cave while you bleed out."

The blitz continued as Ray said, "Wish my shot had missed when Doza's men tried to lynch you. Perhaps you should commit suicide in the same manner as Judas … go hang yourself."

A roundhouse kick delivered by Ray to his lumbar dropped Clay to his knees. As his hand reached for his aching lower back, Clay peered over at the only two not to assault him, begging Brock and Cerberus not to forsake him.

"Sick em'," Brock ordered with a lethal glint in his eyes as he let Cerb off his leash.

Clay screamed as Cerberus attacked, sinking his teeth into his left thigh and started to thrash him about the locker room as the men of Bravo stood in a circle surrounding him, laughing at his anguished laments, pleading with them to believe he would never lie to them, leak mission details, or betray their trust.

* * *

 _ **Keeling Island**_

Clay's body thrashed back and forth as he moaned, "No … Cerb … no."

Katie held Clay with all her might, trying to keep him calm as the fever raged and his mind became locked in some horrific memory or nightmare which made no sense to her. She needed his body to remain still since vigorous movement would speed the venom through his system.

At her physical limit, Katie let loose her hold and tears spilled down as she collapsed beside Clay. "Lord, I haven't prayed much in a long time. Please, I beseech You, protect him … keep him alive … don't let this lionhearted man die. He has suffered greatly already. The scars on his body are testament to the labors he has endured. Lay Your hand upon Your lamb and bring him into Your light. Allow him to rest at ease in Your loving arms and bring his brothers to him in time. I believe they will be lost if they find him here lifeless."

Several moments later, Clay settled, going limp. Katie lay one hand on his fevered brow while her other lightly clasped his wrist, searching for his pulse. Finding a steady beat, she peered up at the blue sky. "Thank you, Lord." Katie allowed her body to relax, taking a few moments to rest. Exhausted, without meaning to, she slipped off to sleep.

* * *

 ** _Aboard the Labeeba Trawler_**

Luncai took cover in the pilothouse as his men continued to shoot at the Kobayashi Maru. He left Kingfisher laying on the deck hoping the return fire would rid him of a problem without actually committing murder. Though he was not above doing so if Kingfisher survived. So far, the man proved to be lackluster and unreliable, bringing more trouble than he was worth.

He grinned as another explosion ripped through the decrepit fishing boat. It wouldn't be long before it sank and all those aboard still living would become fish food. He might just garner a large haul of shark fins when they scented the blood and came in to feed.

When his men started dropping, Luncai couldn't figure out how or why, until he spied four men on the opposite side of his trawler, laying waste to anyone with a weapon. When his cousin fell, double-tapped in the chest, Luncai decided he would rather live.

His mind working fast, devising a plan on the fly, Luncai dropped his gun and raised his hands. "Don't shoot. I'm only a fisherman. You can take my haul, but leave my men alive."

Gunfire ceased as Luncai's crew stared at their captain wondering what was going on.

In Malay, he said, "Menurunkan senjata anda," then repeated in English, "lower your guns." As the crew lay down their weapons, Luncai peered at the tall man with black hair and a scruffy beard who exuded authority. "I'm a humble fisherman protecting my livelihood. Don't kill me … us."

Jason asked, "Why did you fire on us?"

"Are you not pirates? Three hauls in the last month have been stolen from me by pirates." Luncai played up his confusion.

Kingfisher saw his opening, getting in a volley before Luncai could rat him out. "He's lying. Luncai attacked me. He's a pirate. Killed my clients … threw Clay and Katie overboard. Wanted to steal my boat. He did this to me." Kingfisher pointed to the laceration across his abdomen the bitch had given him.

Luncai shouted, "I did not. He sent out a mayday. I thought he was working with you … drawing me into a trap. We tried to help him." He waved at his dead medic. "My man was treating him. No one else was aboard his craft."

"ENOUGH!" Jason glanced between the two men, not sure who to believe. He turned to Ray. "Any suggestions?"

"We search Kingfisher's boat and this trawler for them, and if we don't find them, we interrogate both … separately."

"They're not here … I told you he killed them and tossed their bodies in the ocean," Kingfisher reasserted.

"Shut it before I feed you to the fishes," Sonny growled at Kingfisher, not believing a word out of the man's mouth.

Jason ignored Sonny's remark, realizing if both Kingfisher and Luncai were claiming Clay and Katie were dead, he hated to admit it, but one of these men might be telling the truth. "Three, Five, secure the able-bodied men, keep the captain separate. Leave the wounded here for Four to treat. Search this vessel, then take the Kookaburra to retrieve our guys. Once they're safe on board, toss both boats to find any clue to where Bravo Six and Kilo Six are." Turning to Ray, he said, "Get on the radio and try to raise HAVOC."

Bravo moved to comply with orders as Jason pressed his comms button to communicate with Koala. "Bravo One to Kilo One."

"Kilo One, go ahead." Koala kicked his feet along with Danvers, Kasey, and Riley, propelling the dingy away from the rapidly sinking Kobayashi Maru, not wanting the rubber craft or any of them to be sucked down to Davey's Locker with it.

"Hostiles secured. No sign of our boy and girl. Coming to get you … we need to do a bit of field interrogation."

"Copy. All hands in the water. Kilo One out."

After taking a moment to watch the burning rust bucket taking its swan dive, Jason peered down at Kingfisher. He drew in a breath and crouched. "Now, tell me exactly what happened. Or I might let my man feed you to the sharks."

* * *

 ** _Keeling Island_**

Waking, disoriented, Clay blinked several times, unable to clear his blurry vision. Raising a hand to wipe his eyes, he groaned when sand landed in his face. He turned, rolling to his right side, the stench of something assaulting his nose but unable to discern the source.

Unsure why his left leg didn't want to cooperate when he pushed up to his knees, he hung his head down between his arms as they supported him, to peer past his chest to his legs. His sight clearing a little, he spied something wrapped around his thigh but gave it little thought as something drove him to want to rise.

Digging his toes into the warm sand and using his right knee for leverage, he managed to make it to his feet. Allowing his right limb to bear the majority of his weight, Clay began limping … not sure where he was going or why, but a sense of urgency made him continue to move.

Oblivious to the spear dragging behind him, or Katie lying on the beach asleep, Clay listlessly wandered into the lush vegetation. When his left palm came in contact with the bark of a coconut tree, Clay grimace and pulled it away. He squinted as he tried to focus on his hand to find out why it hurt. Noting two punctures, he wondered what caused them.

Like a lemming following the group even if it meant leaping off a ledge, Clay heeded a voice in his head leading him somewhere for some reason he didn't comprehend but sensed it meant life or death.

Unsure how long or how far he walked, Clay stumbled and fell over a log. He couldn't hold back the scream as something tugged on his left leg. Lying on the ground, panting and unable to move, agony rippled through his lower limb.

Having awoken with a start, several minutes ago, Katie stared in disbelief finding an empty spot where Clay had been. It took her only a moment to notice the trail created by what she was certain was the spear. Hurrying as fast as she could, she followed.

A pained cry … Clay's voice … pierced Katie to the core and she redoubled her speed, wondering what the hell was going on. Coming to a little clearing, she found him on his back with the shaft lodged on the opposite side of the log beside Clay.

Going to her knees, releasing the stuck spear, she couldn't help the ire in her tone. "Just where the bloody hell do you think you are going? You shouldn't be moving. Jesus H. Christ, do you have a death wish?"

Clay blinked up at Katie then his unfocused eyes roamed around. "What?"

Witnessing his confusion, Katie softened her voice, realizing the fever likely scrambled his mind. "We need to get back to the beach. We won't be found if we don't stay visible." She pushed Clay up to a sitting position. "Let me take your weight."

Shaking his head, Clay mumbled, "Stop. Listen."

Humoring him, knowing she needed him to cooperate to stand, unable to carry him herself, she halted and said, "Listen to what?"

Clay dropped to his back again. "Don't you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"Crying."

Katie thought she would be crying soon. Clay's pale features scared her, but she sat still and tuned her ears to the sounds as she scanned the landscape. Her eyes almost bugged out as she discerned a soft, mournful keening. She attempted to locate the direction, finding it impossible with the plethora of bird noises. "Do you know which way it is coming from?"

Clay shut his eyes and concentrated. His arm swung out, and he pointed. "That way."

"You stay here. Don't move an inch or I swear you will receive a hundred lashes with a leather strap."

Katie rose and started in the direction Clay indicated. After about fifty yards, she stopped and stared. Karen Dilbert, her eyes swollen and red, sat weeping next to Gareth Dilbert who lay unmoving on the ground. "Karen? Karen Dilbert?"

Lethargic, dehydrated, in shock, and certain her husband died, Karen slowly turned her head when her name was softly called. Disbelieving her eyes, she turned back to her husband and continued her grieving.

* * *

 ** _Aboard the Karnivorous Kookaburra_**

After searching both boats and finding neither Clay or Katie, they tossed both for clues to their whereabouts but found nothing except their bags and one belonging to Karen Dilbert. Interrogating both Kingfisher and Luncai produced no usable information. Luncai's crew spoke no English, and none of his or Koala's men spoke Malay, which frustrated Jason. He wished for Clay to be here for his language skills … the kid could've probably made some sense and well, helped locate the kid.

In the end, Jason contacted HAVOC and hashed out a plan with Blackburn. The USS Kearsarge would launch a Seahawk with medics onboard and fly to the Labeeba's location to extract Holt, Kingfisher, and two wounded crew of the trawler. Danvers and Riley would stay aboard the Labeeba and await the arrival of the HMAS Lancaster, an Aussie patrol boat, which would take control of the vessel illegally fishing in Australian waters. All of Bravo, plus Koala and Kasey would take Kingfisher's boat and backtrack the GPS coordinates all the way to a point about a mile off of North Keeling island.

They all were aware searching for Clay and Katie would be like finding a needle in a haystack, especially if they had been dumped in the ocean. The blood splatters on the Kookaburra indicated a significant struggle occurred, but they all held out hope their teammates entered the water alive and uninjured, and the blood was only Kingfisher's.

If so, Jason put stock in Clay's swimming abilities. A mile swim would be nothing for the kid and Spenser would do everything in his power to ensure Kilpatrick made it too. However, if they went in injured, making land without encountering sharks would be miraculous. Jason spotted Ray praying, which actually relieved him a little. His friend experienced a crisis of faith after Mexico and finding him saying a prayer meant Ray was making headway.

Glancing at Sonny, Jason realized his weapons expert's head was seriously not in the game. Sonny laid into Lisa hard when they made contact with HAVOC, reaming her over her sloppy work in acquiring the Kobayashi Maru. Jason ordered Sonny to zip it, and still incensed and needing a release, Quinn punched a hole in one of the galley cabinets.

Jason raked his hand through his hair and dropped to one of the seats, taking a moment to regroup himself. This was a disaster and he needed to find a way to bring the kid home.

Manning the wheel, Koala glanced at Jason, before returning his gaze ahead as the boat sliced through the water at full throttle. His mind was split between worry for Holt, thankful for Trent's efforts, concern for Katie and Clay, unsure if they still lived, and determination to find both. As the radio crackled to life, he responded, "Good Copy HAVCO, go ahead."

* * *

 ** _Airfield_ _on West Island – HAVOC_**

Lisa squeezed the button and spoke into the handset, "Be advised we now have … uh, well, a sort-of ISR over North Keeling and have located four human-sized heat signatures a half klick into the jungle from the east side. Three are together and the fourth is about fifty yards away."

Eric stood behind Lisa, letting her relay the information. She had been worried and angry at herself for procuring the leaky bucket named the Kobayashi Maru and had toiled non-stop to find a way to help locate Clay and Katie. Some might call it dumb luck, but Eric understood the hard work and dedication it took to provide logistics for Bravo. The guys never took Lisa for granted, although she made her job look easy … she always anticipated their needs before they even knew they had them.

As she communicated the global positioning coordinates to Koala, Eric recalled the painstaking efforts Lisa expended to assist the boys. She contacted the HMAS Lancaster and spoke to another petty officer in charge of the ship's logistics. Between the two of them, they managed to discover the Earth Sciences Department at the University College London were surveying the populations of seabirds which nest on North Keeling via a satellite using thermal imaging.

With a few tweaks to the programming by Lester, their support tech, Lisa had been able to direct the satellite and begin a search grid, which ultimately located four heat signatures characteristic of human bodies. The only question in their minds was if two of the thermal images were Spenser and Kilpatrick, or perhaps someone else visiting the island.

After ending the transmission, Lisa leaned back in her chair. Sonny's diatribe hit home, and all her concerns that she was abandoning her boys to go to OCS came back full force. _I never expected to fall for Sonny … I value our friendship. Losing him because I let our relationship evolve into something more than it ever should have hurts so much. Dammit, Sonny would've never found the damn training manual if I hadn't allowed myself to go down that path. I should've learned my lesson after Danny died. I can't afford a love life with anyone within DEVGRU, it puts them all at risk._

Sonny reacted the way she feared all the guys would … which is why she dreaded telling them all about OCS regardless of what Eric said. The loutish behavior and cold words from Sonny after he found out cemented all her concerns, lacerated her heart, and left her wanting to curl up, hideaway, and lick her wounds.

But she couldn't … not now, not yet. This would likely be the last op with the team, and because she failed to provide Bravo a decent boat, Clay was now lost somewhere in the Indian Ocean. She refused to go out on a low note. She liked Clay a lot, and she would remain at her post and do whatever it took to bring him back.

"Lisa."

Pulled from her thoughts, Lisa turned to the lieutenant commander. "Yeah?"

"Go rest."

"Can't do that. Not yet. The guys aren't resting, and they've been in the thick of things. I'm going to monitor the island so I can relay any movement to Bravo."

Eric nodded. "I'll bring you coffee then." Davis was as stubborn as Jason in her own way. He learned just how tenacious she was in the Ecuador jungle when Carlson tried to kill all of Bravo team. Her quick thinking saved his life that day when she shot Carlson, and she also located Clay which saved the kid's life too. He would miss having Lisa on the team when she started OCS … it would be a loss felt by all of them, but he supported her desire because Lisa would make one hell of an officer.

* * *

 ** _Keeling Island_**

Karen rubbed her eyes after drinking the milk from another coconut before offering more to Gareth. The woman next to her a godsend … she didn't know how to thank Katie. Her mind so muddled due to lack of water that after Gareth fell from the tree, having climbed up to secure another coconut to use as a hammer in his attempt to break open a nut found on the ground, she assumed he was dead. He was only unconscious and roused shortly after Katie assured her that he was alive.

"Come on, Karen, help me with Gareth, we need to return to my friend," Katie said as she assisted Mr. Dilbert to a sitting position after determining he had a nasty lump on the back of his head. Gareth suffered from dehydration and a concussion for sure, but luckily, his fall didn't break any bones.

Both women supported the groggy man as they made their way back to Clay. Once arriving, Katie set Gareth down a little ways from Clay and instructed Karen, "Help Gareth sip more coconut water … go slow though. I need to check on Clay."

Kneeling beside Spenser, she said, "Hey, hey. Wake up." She lightly shook his shoulder and getting no response tapped his cheek. "Clay, you need to wake."

Unfocused, feverish eyes flickered open.

"There you are. You found them. Karen and Gareth. Now, you stay with me. I'm not losing you … we need to tell your team about your legendary tracking skills. Ones that kick in when you aren't even lucid."

Clay grinned up at the lovely sprite above him. "Pretty," he mumbled.

Lifting his head, Katie dribbled a bit of liquid on his lips again. "Drink."

Licking his cracked lips, Clay greedily sought the moisture. "Hot. Hurt."

"I know. Wish I could do more. Rest." She lowered his head to the soft, broad grass under a laurelwood tree. Noises brought Katie's head whipping up and turning towards the beach direction. Spying the large form with gray hair breaking through the foliage, Katie almost squealed with delight. "Koala! Here. Over here."

Jason came next, his eyes taking in the four people as he said, "Trent … Clay's down." He keyed comms and reported, "HAVOC, Bravo One."

"Good Copy, One." Lisa's voice replied.

"Be advised … Spenser, Kilpatrick, and the Dilberts located alive. Unsure of Six's condition but will need medevac on the beach pronto."

Trent rushed towards Clay as the rest of Bravo fanned out and began to assess Karen and Gareth and Koala went to Katie. Taking a knee as he shrugged off his med pack, he surveyed the kid with practiced eyes. Much of the blood on the decking and the rear of the hull had been Clay's by the paleness presented to him.

As soon as Koala released her, Katie turned to Trent. "He was speared on the boat. A banded sea krait bit him as we passed through the coral reef. He is running a fever … the wound must be infected. He's been in and out, not lucid much of the time. I wish the Kookaburra was here … Kingfisher said he carried antivenom in his med kit."

Sonny stood after giving Karen a hydration pack. "I'll go."

"Me too. I'm a faster swimmer than Sonny," Brock said as he dropped his pack next to Ray.

"Go. Both of you." Jason pressed comms again. "Kilo Three, find the first aid kit on the boat. Bravo Three and Five are on their way. We need the antivenom it contains."

Katie's eyes widened, and she swayed, her energy waning and fatigue seeping back in now that reinforcements had arrived. "You got Kingfisher?"

Koala guided Katie down to sit on the log and handed her water. "Yes. Now rest. You did well. We got you now."

A long sigh escaped, and Katie's hand shook as she watched Trent start a transfusion on Clay while Jason knelt next to the young man, placed a hand on his forehead, and leaned down to whisper in Clay's ear. She recognized the look. Clay's brothers cared about him deeply.

Koala sat next to Katie. "Can you tell me what happened? How you located the Dilberts?"

Her gaze never leaving Clay, Katie said, "Kingfisher tried to kill me after he got a call from someone. Clay saved me by launching himself at me and knocking me down. The spear ended up in his leg, but he disarmed Kingfisher, and I grabbed the knife. When Clay fell, Kingfisher came after me again. Still dazed it was all I could do to hold the knife as the lout choked me. Clay managed to get him in a headlock and Kingfisher loosened his grasp on me, but afterwards forced Clay into the water.

"After Clay went overboard, and I managed to cut Kingfisher twice, one deep across his gut before my foot entangled in the wire that is through Clay's leg and ended up going over too. We weren't anchored, and the boat sped away before we could climb aboard.

"We had to swim here. He almost drowned, but he never gave up. If I hadn't rested a moment on the coral, he wouldn't have tried to swim by himself again, and he wouldn't have grabbed for the coral to propel himself forward. The rock turned out to be a yellow-lipped banded krait, and it bit him.

"After getting him to land, I gathered some coconuts, and we both drank before I fell asleep. I woke, and he was gone. I followed his trail, not hard to miss with the bloody spear dragging behind him. I found him here. I wanted to move him back to the beach, but he insisted he heard something."

Katie waved to the couple. "He did. She was crying. Thought Gareth died. Clay found them … not me."

"Kid. You with us?" Jason clasped Spenser's limp right hand.

"Boss?" Clay's eyes blinked open as a familiar voice sounded in his ear. Jason's face loomed above him. "Knew … you … come," he struggled to say as his need for air increased. "Trent?"

"I'm here. Tanking you up. You're a pint or two low." Trent kept his tone light, though he was concerned.

"Hard … bre … athe … ca … n't move." Clay tried moving but nothing worked, and his lungs didn't want to cooperate anymore. His eyes rolled back in his head as he lost consciousness.

"He's not breathing, Jace. I need to intubate him. Give me a hand," Trent calmly ordered as he began pulling out the necessary supplies.

Katie scrambled up and over to Clay. "The krait venom is a potent neurotoxin which can cause paralysis. I can help too."

Glad to have two sets of capable hands to assist him, Trent set to work with a conventional laryngoscope, and in short order inserted the flexible plastic tube down Spenser's trachea and attached the bag, which Jason squeezed manually, ventilating Clay's lungs, providing life-sustaining oxygen to the kid.

As he waited for the antivenom, Trent moved on to Spenser's leg and cut off the makeshift compression bandage, impressed at Katie's ingenuity. "You kept him from bleeding out. Smart to use the wetsuit."

"All I had. Thank goodness I maintained my hold on the knife or … well, …" Katie drew in a shaky breath.

Jason peered into Kilpatrick's eyes, sincerity in his voice. "Thank you for saving the kid. We're kinda attached to him. He's everyone's little brother."

Katie nodded. "He's attached to you too. He kept mumbling your names." She sat back on her heels and grimaced as Trent pulled the spear line out of Clay's thigh after cutting the wire. She shifted her gaze to Jason. "He kept saying the ash-hole or asshole didn't win … he wouldn't drown him with Bravo watching his back. Does that have any significance?"

Arriving back with the antivenom, both Brock and Sonny overheard Katie. As Brock handed it to Trent to administer, Quinn dropped to the ground at Clay's feet his expression contorting with worry seeing the kid intubated and anger upon hearing Clay's most recent name for his father.

His hand lay on his little brother's right leg as Sonny ground out, "Ash Spenser … his father is an ASHHOLE. I would like to beat the shit out of him."

"Clay's dad?" Katie peered at him, dumbfounded.

Koala blew out a breath. It sounded like Clay had father issues just like Dan … though in truth, Dan misunderstood his father … oh hell, it was complicated, and Koala didn't understand it all since Dan didn't tell him everything. He was just happy Dan began responding to his letters again after many years of hiatus.

Jason stopped Sonny from revealing more with only a glance as he said, "We need to construct a stretcher."

"On it." Sonny stood, needing something to do as rage coursed through his veins for Clay's current predicament as well as what Ash had done to the kid. He stomped off to find the necessary materials as his mind replayed the night Clay ended up at the Bravo cage.

* * *

 ** _Sonny's Memory_**

Gathered in Bravo's equipment locker room with everyone except Spenser, the topic of their conversation, after Jason called them to the base to get ahead of the fallout of Ash Spenser's interview on TV tonight … which was actually a repeat of one that played while they were out of country and Mandy had brought to Blackburn's attention as soon as one of her colleagues asked her about it.

Conversation halted as the door opened and Clay entered. The kid looked like shit … anger and hurt displayed on his face as clear as day. The kid rambled out, "It's not me. I'm not the source. Please believe me. Ashhole is trying to drag me down."

Jason shook his head. Fury in his eyes upon seeing the effect this had on Clay. "ASH IS A LIAR! WE BELIEVE YOU! SOMEONE ELSE TOLD ASH ABOUT THE MISSION! NONE OF US, INCLUDING YOU, WOULD EVER TALK TO HIM ABOUT A MISSION. I CONSIDER YOU FAMILY."

Clay stumbled backward, closer to his cage, shocked by the vehement support Jason showed him. Realizing the ire in Jason's voice was not directed at him, but Ash, Clay's hands came up to wipe the tears pooling in his blue eyes, his emotions overwhelmed by Jason's remarks.

Angry at Ash, Sonny growled, "We believe you. You are trustworthy, your father a liability. You are my little brother." He lunged, grasping Spenser as the kid started to crumble to keep him from falling and held him up against wire cage. "Apple falls far from the tree. You are loyal, unlike your loathsome asshole dad."

When Clay gasped for breath and appeared to be passing out due to a panic attack of sorts, Trent yanked him away. Trent's finger rubbed Clay's sternum hard trying to stimulate a response and get the kid to suck in a lungful of air. "I didn't spend precious time and resources saving your likable ass multiple times to lose you now. You don't deserve this, kid. I want to rip out Ash's liver and feed it to the rabid leopard in the cave while he bleeds out"

Ray moved forward, his face awash in fear as Clay struggled to breathe. "Wish I could've shot Ash before he tried to lynch your career. Ash should commit suicide in the same manner as Judas … go hang himself."

Suddenly, Clay dropped to his knees, his hand going to his lumbar region which had been bruised when a hostile in the mausoleum got the drop on him during their previous mission. Clay's wounded eyes sought out the one team member who always gave him unconditional comfort … Cerberus.

"Go to em'." Brock let loose of Cerb's leash as the pain of a father's disloyalty caused his eyes to glint with fury, wanting to kill Ash Spenser at this very moment.

Clay latched onto the hair missile, burying his face in the fur as he broke down. Bravo formed a protective circle surrounding their youngest brother and by silent agreement vowed to make Ash Spenser pay for his treachery.

* * *

 ** _Keeling Island_**

Sonny understood they didn't have a chance before the mission, but they would eventually find out who leaked info to Ash and prove to the cake-eaters it was not the kid. They had taken turns watching over Clay after his breakdown. Hence the reason he had been in the gym observing Spenser beat the shit out of the heavy bag right before this mission.

Their brother didn't have an easy life. Losing Brian and Adam, all the shit with Stella, then Mexico, followed by a couple of close calls on missions, Ash's perfidy, and now this … speared in the leg, bitten by a venomous yellow-lipped sea krait, and his lungs paralyzed … not breathing on his own.

Ray assisted Sonny with the stretcher. "What's on your mind, brother?"

Sonny exhaled heavily. "Kid can't catch a break."

Nodding, Ray stoically said, "That's why he has us. We won't let him down … we got his back. We are his family."

"Damn right!" Sonny picked up the makeshift stretcher and moved to Clay.

As Jason continued to breathe for Clay, refusing to allow anyone else to take over, Brock, Trent, Sonny, and Ray shifted their brother onto the stretcher and lifted the four corners. Koala and Katie assisted the Dilberts and Bravo took the lead as they traipsed out of the lush jungle to the idyllic white sand beach.

They arrived just as a Seahawk touched down. Koala insisted Katie go with Bravo and the rescued couple in the helo to be checked out by the American doctor on the USS Kearsarge and he would swim back to the Kookaburra and take the fishing boat back to Home Island with Kasey. Katie didn't put up resistance, wanting to be close to her new friend Clay.

* * *

 _ **Seahawk En Route to the USS Kearsarge**_

Trent communicated with the two medics onboard, handing over care of Clay to them, and the manual bag was switched out for an automatic one. Jason's hand cramped up, and he flexed it constantly as if still providing life-support for the kid. He pulled his knees close, making room for the others in the tight space. As they lifted off, the whirl of the blades drowned out the words of the medics working frantically to save Spenser's life.

Five men with solemn faces became lost in limbo as they stared at their little brother. Each man silently wishing, hoping, and praying Clay would beat the odds and pull through this time. Though, also worried the kid might've run out of his share of miracles.

As Jason clenched his fist and rubbed his left thigh, the action not lost on Ray ... his friend likely thinking about Nate's death. Ray peered skyward and softly whispered, "A cat has nine lives, what has a man?"

.

 ** _To be continued in AI-M ..._**

* * *

 **AN:** Hope you enjoyed the second part of the multichapter story. It is a little out of canon, or maybe not depending on what they do with the Ash situation from the last episode.

Thanks to all my wonderful readers who post a comment ... they make my day! 😊

M and N suggestions welcome. Contributors for L include:

\- Labor from L3gend78  
\- Laceration from floopdeedoopdee, ItsJustBecca, Juniper, NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Lack from ItsJustBecca  
\- Lamb from Megan Rachel  
\- Lamp from Megan Rachel  
\- Land/landing/landed from Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Language from NetMyne01  
\- Lap/laps from ItsJustBecca  
\- Large from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Larynx from floopdeedoopdee  
\- Lash/lashes from floopdeedoopdee, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Last from Megan Rachel  
\- Later from Megan Rachel  
\- Laugh/laughter/laughing from NetMyne01  
\- Launch/launched from L3gend78, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Lay/laid/laying from ItsJustBecca  
\- Lazy/laze from ItsJustBecca  
\- Leak/leaky/leaking from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Lean/leaning from ItsJustBecca  
\- Leap from floopdeedoopdee  
\- Leash from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Leather from Megan Rachel  
\- Leave from Megan Rachel  
\- Leg from Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx, L3gend78  
\- Legend/legendary from NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Lemming from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Leopard from kenyancougar, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Less from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Lethargic/lethargy from floopdeedoopdee, Juniper, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Letters from Megan Rachel  
\- Liability from Megan Rachel  
\- License from Megan Rachel  
\- Lick from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Lie/lying/liar from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Light from ItsJustBecca, Megan Rachel  
\- Lightheaded from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Like/likely from Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Limb from Guest  
\- Limbo from Guest  
\- Limits from Megan Rachel  
\- Limp/limping/limped from Guest, ItsJustBecca, Juniper, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Line from Megan Rachel  
\- Lip/lips from L3gend78, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Liquid from Juniper, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Listless from floopdeedoopdee  
\- Little from ItsJustBecca, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Live/living/life from ItsJustBecca, Megan Rachel, L3gend78  
\- Liver from Elise Deschat, ItsJustBecca, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Local from Victoria-Annxx  
\- Lock/locked from Juniper, Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Long from Megan Rachel  
\- Look from Megan Rachel  
\- Loose from ItsJustBecca, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Lose/loss/lost from ItsJustBecca, Juniper, Victoria-Annxx  
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\- Loyal from NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx, L3gend78  
\- Luck/lucky/luckily from Megan Rachel, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Lumbar from floopdeedoopdee, NetMyne01, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Lump from floopdeedoopdee  
\- Lung/lungs from ItsJustBecca, Juniper, Victoria-Annxx  
\- Lush from Megan Rachel


	13. Mr Miracle and Malevolence

**Mr. Miracle and Malevolence**

* * *

 _ **Perth Naval Hospital – ER Waiting Room**_

Jason couldn't relax … so he paced the waiting area, stopping and turning to the door every time it opened. Although he had been calm and steady helping intubate Clay, his hands now shook, so he kept them clenched. The trip to the U.S.S. Kearsarge felt like it took eons as everyone stared at their rookie.

Waiting outside their infirmary as Navy medical staff stabilized Spenser for the flight to Perth lasted an indeterminable amount of time … and the actual travel time … well, Jason couldn't say. All he knew was his rookie still was unconscious and not breathing on his own, which scared the hell out of him.

He vaguely listened to Kilpatrick as she explained what she knew of krait venom. Of all the damned luck … the kid made it through shark-infested waters without being attacked, only to be bitten by a damned sea snake ten feet from the beach. It was a fucking miracle Clay was still alive.

Mandy entered the area behind Blackburn and Davis, their flight arranged while the others were still on the Kearsarge waiting to transport both Spenser and Holt to the hospital in Perth. She stood back as Eric approached Jason because she comprehended the murderous expression on Jason's face. Someone would pay for Spenser being injured, and she was the most likely target. She only hoped the news she brought would assuage his anger somewhat.

"Any word yet?" Eric asked coming to a halt near the master chief who appeared ready to engage in mayhem.

"No," Jason snapped.

"They've got their best staff working on him, or so Commander Kingston tells me." Eric turned his gaze to the others in the room. "Accommodations have been arranged for everyone at the motel across the street. You all need rest, but I understand you won't be leaving until you hear how Clay is doing."

"Got that right, in one." Jason's eyes whipped to the door again, only to be disappointed when a nurse exited and went to the vending machine.

Davis sat next to Sonny, noting his somber expression. "He's gonna make it. Clay's a fighter."

"Kid shouldn't have to be fighting for his life … these damned pet missions of Mandy's havta stop. He's being misused … his looks, his language skills." Sonny growled as he fought to rein in his temper. "Hell, even his old man screws him over."

Mandy overheard, and interjected, "About that."

Everyone's eyes turn to Mandy. "I finally got to the root of why Bravo was sent on this mission."

"And how would that help Clay now?" Jason barked, the fire still in his eyes.

"Whoa, Jace, let her speak." Ray put a hand on Jason's shoulder.

Glancing around, not sure she should tell them here, but deciding it might go a long way in redeeming her … or at least moving the target off her back because she was not the one pulling the strings. She motioned for them to gather closer and dropped her voice, "Admiral Droit wanted Spenser out of the country for at least a week. This mission was a way to make that happen."

"What? Why?" Brock asked, beating everyone to the punch.

Mandy took a breath. "Has something to do with Ash Spenser's interview and claim to have an inside source."

"Oh hell no! Goldilocks isn't the source. The damned cake eaters aren't going to pin this on him," Sonny ground out.

Ray turned in a circle, anger rising, as he gripped the back of his neck and images of Clay in the cage the night of the interview slammed into his brain. The vulnerability and the fear of not being believed exuded from Clay had been unnerving, especially when he collapsed to the ground.

Trent glared at Mandy. "So they send him on a mission to kill him … that's some first-class shit."

Jason waited, he knew the look in Mandy's eye … there was more here than met the eye.

"Let me finish without jumping off the deep end." Mandy halted until she had all their attention again. "This is not what they expected to happen to Clay. They only wanted him out of the way and unable to be blamed. Seems Admiral Droit likes Clay and didn't for one minute believe he leaked details to Ash."

"He believes someone else is giving the ashhole classified data," Jason more stated than questioned with malice dripping from each word.

Mandy nodded. "I'm not privy to most of it, but apparently they are investigating and possibly laying out a trap to identify who passed the details to the elder Spenser. Hence the need to have Clay unreachable and in a position where he can't be maligned again."

The door opening and a doctor approaching them ceased further conversation. Dr. Marchant halted and peered directly at the intense dark-haired man who had demanded in no uncertain terms that he was to save the kid's life or lose his. A bit melodramatic for him, but Marchant was used to dealing with distraught family members. And he knew without a doubt, these men, though not related by blood were brothers.

"I'll get right to the point. He will survive. The antivenom is helping, and he appears to possess a strong constitution. It will take time for the venom to work out of his system, but as it does, the paralysis should resolve. I'm optimistic he will suffer no residual effects, but we will monitor him closely.

"The wound in his thigh did become infected. We have cleaned it thoroughly and started him on a broad-spectrum antibiotic until the lab work comes back and identifies the organism. I'll adjust medications as necessary. The young man is lucky, the spear did not do any major damage to muscles, ligaments, or tendons.

"He is still intubated and we are moving him to the intensive care unit soon. Once he is settled, a nurse will come and escort you back, two at a time. I apologize, but we are not set up to accommodate more than two, and you may only stay a few minutes in the room with him since the area is quite small. We do have a special waiting room down the hall for ICU patient's families. Feel free to camp out there, and a nurse will provide you updates on a regular basis. Any questions?"

Satisfied he had the straight scoop on Clay, Sonny asked, "How is Holt?"

Marchant nodded in understanding. Though the soldiers were not from the same country, a brotherhood existed. "He is still in surgery. I'll send word on his condition once he is in recovery. Any other questions?" Upon receiving shakes of their heads, Marchant pivoted and headed back into the emergency room.

Jason raked a hand through his hair. "Brock, Sonny, you two go first. Trent, Ray you next, then I want all four of you to go to the motel and rest a few hours. Blackburn and I will go last … after Davis …" Jason eyed Mandy, "and Ellis."

He strode over to a chair and sank down. _The kid is gonna make it. I'm getting too old for this shit._ Jason's mind shifted. _Who the hell is the mole and why would Admiral Droit go out of his way to protect Clay from being accused?_

* * *

 _ **Two Days Later – Perth Naval Hospital – Clay's Room**_

The past two days of waiting for the kid to wake wore on everyone. Jason finally agreed to go to the motel to sleep once Spenser was off the ventilator, which was in the wee hours of this morning. An oxygen mask still covered his nose and mouth and they wouldn't switch to a nose cannula until they could keep his O2 sats stable.

Freshly showered, and in clean clothes after six hours of sleep, all Jason would agree to take, he strolled into Spenser's room carrying a tray of coffees and clutching a large bag. He spied the rest of Bravo lounging in various chairs they had unabashedly procured from other rooms. "Brought hot coffee and burritos."

Ray stood and took the tray, going from man to man as they took a cup. "Kid's been showing some signs of waking. His eyelids have fluttered a few times, and he moaned."

"He in pain?" Jason asked as he pulled out one of the steak burritos and handed the bag to Brock.

"No telling, but he settled rather quick," Trent said as he unwrapped his burro after passing the bag to Sonny. "Aussies do Mexican food?"

Jason grinned. "Yeah, and Cerb loved his burro."

"Ah man, you didn't give him one of these?" Brock had taken a bite to find steak mixed with beans. "He's gonna be malodorous. Beans make him fart."

The guys all chuckled, but Jason confessed, "Got him a steak only version. But Cerb even on his worst day doesn't smell as bad as Sonny."

"Hey, hey … ladies find my scent an aphrodisiac, they swoon at my feet," Sonny retorted.

Ray chuckled. "Brother, we need Trent to teach you the difference between swooning and passing out."

The sounds of his brothers joking filtered into Clay's ears. He wanted to open his eyes, but that required more energy than he possessed. Every inch of him ached as if he had swum a hundred miles in the ocean, and a blue whale must be sitting on his chest because every breath was a struggle.

He had difficulty following their conversation, his mind drifting in an out and plagued by a constant throbbing in his leg which hurt like hell. He wished Trent would take his pain away … he always did, so why didn't he now? Clay decided he must be hallucinating their voices … wishful thinking. The last thing he recalled was hearing a woman crying.

 _No … wait … Jason came … Trent too. My team, my family never let me down. They always come for me … even found me in a destroyed building in Sudan and the jungle in Argentina._ Gathering all his strength, Clay forced his eyes to crack open.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty is awake," Sonny said as he moved for the bed when he spotted the partial blue orbs. Relief flooding through him, he joked, "That was some needle you pricked yourself with, Princess Aurora. Maleficent sure put some curse on you. Was about to allow all the nurses to kiss you to wake you."

Jason stepped toward Clay as the rookie's eyes landed on Trent and stayed. "You in pain? Blink once for yes. Don't try to talk … your throat will be raw."

Clay mustered up a bit of reserve and blinked one time.

Trent was out the door in a flash to find the nurse and get some pain medication on board. Both returned a short time later, only to find Clay's eyes closed. "He back asleep?"

"Not sure," Jason replied. "Looked like it took everything he had to open them for a bit.

Trent grasped Clay's right hand. "Give me a little squeeze or wiggle a finger if you are still awake and hurting."

Clay moved his thumb a fraction.

"Okay. The nurse is gonna give you the good stuff for pain and I'll keep you on a schedule until you can communicate easier." Trent nodded to the nurse to administer the morphine.

Not sure how he managed, Clay gave Trent's hand a slight squeeze in thanks. He didn't remain in the conscious world long and was grateful to be drawn into the arms of Morpheus once again.

The guys had all settled into their seats again after the nurse left. When the door opened, they expected it to be Davis or Blackburn but were surprised when Kilpatrick and Koala entered.

Katie's eyes went straight to the bed as she shuffled forward. Her hand landed on Clay's as she asked, "How is he? I wanted to come before now, but they wouldn't let me."

Koala leaned on the wall. "For a damned good reason. Dehydration and a pesky little thing called a concussion. You should still be resting."

"Mild concussion," Katie scoffed. She turned her gaze on Trent. "So, is he going to be okay?"

"The outlook is positive." Trent didn't want to provide too much detail. Though this woman saved the kid's life, he would be protective of Clay.

Sonny asked, "How did Holt fare?"

Koala sighed. "He's alive thanks to Trent's skill. For that, you have my eternal gratitude. Unfortunately, the round did significant internal damage. His days as an operator are over." What Koala didn't share ... he would need to keep a careful watch on Holt, worried the colostomy bag he now required since his bowels had been shot to hell, might lead the man to suicide. Not an outcome he would allow to happen.

Changing the subject, Koala relayed, "Received word from my commander about the Dilberts. Both are out of the hospital and doing fine. They were debriefed and it appears they discovered Kingfisher's operation and Mike dumped them in the ocean three miles from North Keeling Island believing they would drown or be eaten by sharks after he threw chum into the water around them.

"Bill Keller, the magistrate has been arrested as well. He and Kingfisher were in cahoots, but Gary Buckler, the constable is innocent. He will be taking over duties from Keller until a replacement magistrate is hired."

Katie glanced around at the men in the room. Her voice held a note of anger. "This whole thing is a mess. When they went missing, I don't understand why no one bothered to search North Keeling. If they had, Clay wouldn't be lying here and Holt wouldn't be down the hall." Her head began pounding again and she swayed. It hurt almost as much as the occasional migraines she suffered.

Brock caught her. "Take my chair."

Koala pushed off the wall. "Nope, Katie's going back to her room." He eyed her and almost laughed at the murderous glint. "MRIs don't lie. You need rest. I'll order you back to bed if I have to." Koala waited for her capitulation.

Giving in, Katie said, "When he wakes up, someone please come and tell me. I'm in room four sixteen."

"Will do," Ray answered. They owed Katie a lot. Without her, Clay would've bled to death or drown before reaching the island.

With one glance back at her new friend, Katie followed Koala from the room.

* * *

 _ **Murfreesboro** **, Virginia – Local Tavern**_

Ash Spenser ambled into the bar after an hour drive from his home in Norfolk. He was still angry with Clay for slugging him and actually considered for a couple of days to file assault charges. He did nothing to provoke the punch, and by the time he hauled his ass off the floor, his ungrateful son had left.

His mercurial relationship with Clay had never been easy. His son always appeared so needy. _Daddy, why can't you stay? Daddy, why do I have to live with Nana and Papa so far away? How come you and Mommy can't live together?_

On and on it went until Ash wanted to be anywhere other than in the presence of his six-year-old malcontent son. By the time Clay was a teen, all Ash ever got was contempt from the boy, which is why he stayed away.

"Why did I expect it to change," Ash mumbled as he searched for the person he was meeting. _Erase my footsteps … never. I'm taking you down a few pegs and showing you who is top dog. You will never surpass my achievements. This will ensure you are kicked off the Tier One teams._

Spying his contact, Ash quickened his pace and slid into the booth at the back of the dimly lit bar. "What can you tell me?"

Furtive eyes, reminiscent of a frightened meerkat, glanced around. "You know the American hostage situation in Mozambique?"

"Yeah, been watching the news."

"The assignment to rescue them went to Bravo."

Ash took notes as his source provided him the details of the mission. This would make a great addition for a third book or possibly a late revision to the second. It would further support his allegation of having an inside man on the team … his son would take the fall, and that is all Ash cared about at the moment. When the mole finished, Ash grinned. "When will they return?"

"Not certain. I gotta go." Reaching out a hand, and eyeing Ash, the source said, "You brought the money, right?"

Pulling an envelope out of his pocket, Ash pushed it across the table. "There's more where this came from if you continue to feed me details."

Grabbing the packet, the slippery moray eel slithered out of the booth and disappeared into the murky bar.

Ash motioned to the waitress and order a malt whiskey. As he sipped, a smile grew. _Clay will learn not to mouth off to the master operator. And this will be a bit of payback for getting Adam killed too. Seiver would still be alive if my incompetent offspring hadn't been the weak link. Bravo will eventually thank me for managing to get him booted from their team_.

* * *

 _ **Three Days Later – Perth Naval Hospital – Clay's Room**_

"No … believe me … not source!" Clay cried out in his sleep, jerking Sonny and Brock from their ruminations.

After setting down magazines, both men rushed to the bed.

Sonny crooned as he shook the kid's shoulder, "Wake up. Nightmare. Come on."

Panting, sweat beading on his forehead, Clay opened his groggy eyes, turning them to the familiar Texas drawl. He started to calm, sucking a ragged breath. He grimaced as he lifted a hand to wipe away the perspiration before it could dribble into his eyes. His body still ached and reacted slowly to mental commands … a result of the paralysis which the doctor said would diminish with time.

"Here, let me." Brock ran a cool, damp rag over Clay's face. The past three days, ever since Spenser woke, the kid had been plagued by night terrors. Sometimes begging them to believe he hadn't leaked the intel, but most often screaming at his dad not to drown him or kill him.

The killing ones were the weirdest. Ray suggested Clay talk about what he dreamt as a way to release the demons. Clay's subconscious possessed quite an imagination. Ash often took the form of a shark, which Sonny said was appropriate. Sonny would vow that they as his pod of killer whales would rip out Ash's liver before he could harm Clay. This kid had managed to find a place in all their hearts, and none of them would ever turn their backs on him.

Sonny snagged the milkshake Davis brought Clay in an insulated container. "Want a slug?"

Clay nodded and wrapped his lips around the straw as Sonny moved it towards his mouth. He sucked up the cold minty chocolate shake savoring the flavor. His brothers and Lisa had gone out of their way to bring him things he wanted to eat. At first, it was soft foods like mousse and mango ice cream. Yesterday Jason brought him a maple bacon doughnut … a truly awesome creation.

Brock set the cloth down and grinned. "We still have some of the molasses cookies or macadamia nuts if you are hungry."

Clay chuckled. "Not gonna die of starvation, maybe malnutrition with you guys around."

The happy sound from the kid did a lot to settle Sonny's worries. "I can go heat up some of the mozzarella sticks we had earlier."

"Milkshake is enough for now." Clay reached out to take the cup from Sonny, a little self-conscious about how much they did for him, and hating to be mollycoddled, but actually needing their assistance. A maddening situation which messed with his mind and left him mopey.

Glad to see Clay asserting the desire to do things for himself, Sonny released his hold and sat in his chair. "Want to watch TV?"

"No, but go ahead and turn it on if you want." Clay concentrated on holding the cup, his muscles protesting even this small endeavor. He took one more swallow before setting down his beverage. Glancing toward the restroom, Clay almost groaned as Mother Nature called. He shifted, carefully swinging his feet to the side of the bed.

Brock stepped close, ready to be of assistance.

"I got this." Clay reached for the IV pole. Holding in a moan, attempting to retain a bit of macho, Clay put weight on his good leg and pulled himself up. With awkward shuffling movements, Clay limped to the bathroom and shut the door.

Sonny peered at Brock who stood by the closed door. "He's making progress." No sooner than the words left his mouth a crashing sound in the restroom caused Sonny to jump up and cross the distance in the time it took Brock to open the door.

Clay lay on the linoleum, luckily his gown covering his privates, but he wore an expression of disgust as he grumbled, "Damned useless leg."

Without a single word, Brock and Sonny picked the kid up, positioned him to use the toilet, turned their heads to give him a modicum of privacy, and when he finished, moved him back to his bed. Both caught the grimaces Clay tried to hide, and once he was settled, Brock stepped out of the room to track down Clay's nurse.

Clay stared at the ceiling, attempting to be stoic, embarrassed for needing help with the mere task of walking to take a piss. Lately, his leg cycled between excruciating pain and numbness … pain winning out at the moment.

"Just breathe through it," Sonny said as he remained close. He wondered if he had been this attentive to Danny if his friend's life would've taken a different path … perhaps he wouldn't've OD. A strange and wholly selfish thought crossed his mind. _If I had, then I would never have had a chance with Lisa._ To push away the tricky feelings, Sonny started a joke, "A mouse, a mallard duck, and a Martian walk into a bar—"

"Stop!" Clay barked, not in the mood for humor as his leg burned.

"Well, Mr. Moody, if you don't appreciate my jokes, I'll just go find another audience," Sonny snapped back. He pivoted and exited the room without glancing back.

* * *

 _ **Perth Naval Hospital – Hallway**_

Once outside, Sonny sagged against the wall. "What the fuck did I just do?"

Brock halted next to Sonny as the nurse continued in. He placed a hand on Sonny's shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up. I assume he nipped at you."

Sonny nodded.

"Bound to happen. None of us would want to be in his position, and the kid's been injured too damned much … gotta be wearing on his last nerve."

Sonny cringed. "Nerve … when the hell is that numbness he feels supposed to go away?"

"Trent said it would take time … no one knows how much."

"He can't operate if his leg goes dead on him."

"Clay will make it back. He only needs time. Why don't you take a break? Send Jason back. He can deal with morose Clay well."

"Privilege of command."

"Burden," Brock corrected.

Sonny eyed Brock. "Yeah. Okay." He straightened and started for the exit. Striding past Holt's room, Sonny's gut twisted. He was responsible for the man's condition and avoided going in to talk to him. Waiting at the elevator, memories of Danny came back. As the doors opened, Sonny stepped forward, but then pivoted and found himself marching to Holt's door.

Hesitating only a moment, Sonny knocked, and when the Aussie called out, "Come in," he pushed open the door and entered.

* * *

 _ **Perth Naval Hospital – Holt's Room**_

Mark Holt clicked mute on his remote, silencing the TV. "G'day mate."

Sonny moved forward, unsure what to say. He didn't do touchy-feely … will except with the kid, which was odd. Another strange thought entered his head. _Doubt I would've ever considered dallying with Lisa before meeting Clay … the kid changed me._

Finding himself all over the place emotionally lately, Sonny yet again pushed those thoughts away and focused on Holt. "Hey. Been meaning to stop by, but … the kid."

Mark nodded. "How's Spenser doing?"

"Good moments and bad. Making progress though. How about you?" Sonny straddled one of the chairs.

"Been better. I'll be heading home in about five days."

Sonny nodded and drew up the courage to say what he felt must be said. "Thanks for saving my life. I'm sorry this ended your career."

Mark shook his head. "Didn't save your life. The bullet had my name on it."

"But you pushed me out of the way and covered me."

Mark chuckled. "No. You're wrong. We were both moving for cover. You only cushioned my fall. This isn't on you. Hell, if I hadn't missed the boat, none of us would've been there in the first place. And your rookie wouldn't be injured either. If anyone is to blame, it's me."

Sonny stared a moment at the man he had once wanted to hate and punched after finding out he failed to join Clay and Katie on the Karnivorous Kookaburra. "Any idea what you are going to do now?"

"Already received a job offer. Once healed, I'll be going to work for Dilbert Shipyards as head of cybersecurity and threat assessments. A desk job will take some getting used to, but I can focus on refining my other skills. I'll land on my feet." Mark grinned.

The monkey on his back, the guilt he felt over Holt being shot lifted from Sonny's shoulders. The two men spent the next thirty minutes in light conversation. When the nurse came in to do her checks, Sonny excused himself and headed for the motel in a much better mood.

* * *

 _ **Two Days Later – Perth Naval Hospital – Clay's Room**_

Trent glanced up from his medical text book when the door opened and he grinned. Speaking softly, he said, "He's been asleep for about two hours, he should be waking from his nap soon." He stood and stretched. "I'm gonna go grab a snack and a breath of fresh air, mind staying with him until I return?"

Katie smiled. "No worries, take your time. This will be my last visit. I'm back on active duty tomorrow." She strolled to the bed after Trent left, and sat on the edge. She gazed at the man who won a place in her heart … a true friend she would treasure for her lifetime.

A light touch on his cheek woke Clay. He blinked open his eyes, and a beautiful sight greeted him. "Much better than bearded men. Hi, Katie."

"Sorry to wake you."

"No, you're not."

"You're right. I'm not. Wanted to spend as much time as possible with my make-believe husband before I must leave." She scooted more on the bed and clasped Clay's hand, enjoying the connection.

"My wife's leaving me already. Just my luck." Clay fake pouted, although he would miss his chats with Katie. She was fun, smart, and a damned good soldier.

"You're leaving too I heard."

"Yeah, tomorrow. Jason said our ride home won't be the C17, it left yesterday with Blackburn, Ellis, and Davis."

"The Dilberts are grateful to be alive. Ray told me you're all flying home on their private jet. It will make traveling easier on you."

"A bit."

Recognizing Clay didn't like his condition being called out she changed the subject. "Nice couple, can't believe what Gareth Dilbert did for Holt. Makes me happy, and Holt's wife and daughter are over the moon to have him coming home soon. The outcome could've been very different if not for Trent's abilities."

Clay nodded, understanding he too was alive today because of Trent's and Katie's efforts.

Her hand gently rubbed Clay's thigh. "My squad will be starting trials tomorrow for a replacement for Holt." She chuckled. "I get to hand off the rookie badge before you."

Clay rolled his eyes and grinned. "Truthfully, I don't mind keeping it for years to come because it means the team stays intact. But you can't share that with anyone."

Katie beamed. "Yeah, thought you might." She pursed her lips and twisted her fingers on them before saying, "My lips are sealed."

Leaning forwarded and drawing Katie to him, Clay melded his lips to hers, giving her a soft kiss. Pulling back before things became heated, Clay grinned. "Now your lips are SEALed."

Katie laughed. "I think they need a bit more SEALing." She slipped her hands behind his neck and proceeded to lock lips with him.

Several minutes later, catcalls broke them apart, and they both stared at the doorway, finding Sonny holding a cake and the rest of Bravo's and Koala's members filing in behind him. Even Holt was there in a wheelchair, being pushed by Danvers.

"What's this?" Katie waved her hand towards the cake, hoping she wasn't blushing too much, though feeling the heat in her cheeks.

Sonny drawled, "Well, now, Missy, we can't be leaving without a proper divorce party. We want to thank you for teaching our young buck a thing or two. Don't think he's going home a virgin."

The guys erupted in laughter, and Clay tossed his pillow at Sonny, barely missing the cake and avoiding making a mess. Over the next few hours, both teams enjoyed the international comradery, laughing and joking. When Holt started nodding off, Koala and his guys left after a round of farewells, but Katie stayed.

As Katie approached Clay's bed again, she wore a sad smile. "You have my number. Don't be a stranger. Call me now and again and let me know how things are going on your side of the world."

Clay nodded. "Same goes for you." He reached out and clasped her hand. "Thanks for everything, Katie."

"Ditto." She couldn't resist the urge for one last kiss. She leaned down and captured his lips for a tender goodbye.

This time the room remained silent, the men of Bravo recognizing a true connection had been made between Clay and Katie. Saving each other's lives forged a friendship and bond which would be difficult to break.

When Katie straightened, Clay reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Take care, Katie."

"You too." Katie turned away, and tears flooded her eyes as she peered at Jason and his men. "You keep him safe … watch his six."

"Always," Jason answered.

Katie swiped at her eyes and strode out. Saying goodbye to a kindred spirit hurt. She wished they didn't live on opposites sides of the world.

Clay's eyes shifted to the window, taking a moment to center himself. He would never forget all Katie did for him … not only saved his life but helped him get over Stella. Wanting to change the tone in the room, Clay refocused on Jason. "Did they ever find out who is the source, or did Ash just guess and lie about having one?"

"No word yet. Blackburn is going to talk to Admiral Droit when he gets back." Jason picked up another piece of marble cake with thick fudge frosting and took a seat.

Ray chuckled. "Eat much more of that and you'll be running the hills with Clay when he is rehabbing."

"Mind your own stomach," Jason retorted and shoveled in a massive mouthful of his tasty morsel.

Clay closed his eyes as his brothers started teasing each other. He drifted off to sleep, content for the moment. Returning and facing what his father wrought would be a can of worms he might open later.

Trent noted Spenser's regular breathing and monitored it for several minutes. Images of finding the kid not breathing assaulted him. He was glad he spent time learning the tricky art of intubation, because if they had to do mouth to mouth … Clay wouldn't be here now. They would've been escorting him home in a box. Anger over this mission and the reason for it grew and he clenched a fist.

Brock spotted their medic's change in demeanor. "What's wrong, Trent?"

"I want to ram my fists into the Ashhole."

Sonny declared, "Only after I give him an ass whooping Texan-style."

Despite the heat exuding from both men, Ray chuckled. "And what pray-tell makes it Texan-style?"

"My fists will pound on him slow and hard until his meat just falls off his bones." Sonny focused on Clay. "Our little brother deserves a better father. Not one with Machiavellian tendencies."

"I hear you and agree. But we will let whatever the admiral has in mind play out first." Jason eyed Sonny. "You will not approach Ash Spenser. Do I make myself clear?"

Sonny nodded. "Crystal, but—"

"But nothing. We'll pick up the pieces for the kid, just like we did after Mexico and Stella. We're not going to lose him over his father's megalomaniacal behavior."

They all nodded and settled in while Clay napped, hoping he didn't have another dream which mind-fucked him. Ash Spenser was a malignant cancer in the kid's life and needed to be excised for good. They would marshal around their brother and prevent him from being maimed by any more of Ash's malicious actions.

* * *

 _ **One Week Later – Clay's Apartment Parking Lot**_

Clay pulled his Mustang into his usual spot and turned the engine off. He sighed and remained in his seat, muscles exhausted from his workout. He turned and grinned at Sonny and joked, "Might havta carry me up the stairs."

"No way, Mr. Miracle. Told you not to do the last set of reps, but would you listen to me? Nope. So now you're gonna suffer the consequences and haul your own sorry ass up the stairs. Besides, I'm carrying the most important thing already." He lifted two six-packs of beer.

Clay chuckled along with Sonny and moved to open his door. _I really shouldn't have done the last but I had to show them I'm not an invalid._ He groaned as he straightened up. He hadn't experienced an episode of numbness in his leg in the last two days. His rehab was on track and hopefully, in three weeks he would be back with the team.

Rounding the back, Clay said, "Spoke with Katie last night."

"How's your ex-wife?" Sonny teased and halted, realizing Clay needed a moment before they tackled crossing the lot and going up the steps. The miracle kid wowed them all again with his drive and his perseverance, but they needed to rein him in upon occasion when he did too much too fast. Hence tonight's plans.

After workout, Jace and Ray went home to spend some time with their kids. Brock and Trent headed over to Brock's to pick up Cerberus and would be grabbing pizzas on their way over to Clay's. He and Clay stopped for one beer at the bar, well, Clay actually had root beer, then they went to the store to buy brews for everyone. The plan was to get the kid to slow down and mellow out tonight.

Leaning on his trunk, Clay rested a moment, hoping his leg wouldn't give out on him. "She said they found their new guy, and Kasey took over as 2IC."

"I like Kasey, he'll do good. Let's get inside and you can rest, Mr. Macho."

Clay chuckled, not feeling so manly lately … far from it. He pushed off his car, and started forward at a slow pace, regretting with each step pressing his limits today.

Sonny watched Clay's pained attempt at appearing normal. He stopped his little brother halfway there. "Here, you hold one. I need a free hand in case you decide you want to view the asphalt up close and personal."

A heavy sigh escaped Clay, but he took one of the six-packs, conceding the possibility and accepting the mother-henning in lieu of ending up on the ground. They took four steps towards the building when an all too familiar and unwanted voice stopped Clay in his tracks.

"Son, can we talk?" Ash Spenser called out as he rushed forward. He staked out the lot, hoping to catch him alone, but someone was always with him. No longer wanting to wait, he decided to approach him tonight.

Clay's expression turned to stone as he pivoted to face his father. "What do you want, Ash?"

Sonny glared at the former SEAL, a man who broke faith with the brotherhood and exposed things that should remain confidential. Things which put every one of them at risk in the field.

Ash stopped three paces away, eyed the burly man next to his son, knowing it wasn't Hayes, and not caring who he might be. "Tell me why you hit me in the bar. What did I do to deserve it?"

Sonny snorted.

Clay's brows arched. "Don't play stupid. I'm not and neither are you. I'm through with being manipulated by you. I never want to see you again."

"But, Clay … why?" Ash took a step closer, his anger rising.

"I have nothing more to say. We're done." Clay started to turn, his reaction fast enough to duck the punch thrown at him.

Sonny's fist connected with Ash's mandible, knocking the man back and to the side, as he yelled, "No one hurts my brother."

Having arrived in time to witness the words and the altercation, Jason, Ray, Brock, and Trent strode over and stood behind Clay and Sonny, lending their silent support. Cerberus pulled on his lead, growling and baring his teeth at Ash.

Rubbing his lower jaw, Ash took a step back noting the arrival of the others. He squared his shoulders and with his most menacing tone, addressed the man who struck him. "That is assault. I will press charges."

"Go ahead and try. You threw the first punch. I'm sure the police will determine it was a defensive move," Clay stated.

Ash glared at his son. "You'll let him get away with hitting your father?"

"You're lucky he stopped at one," Jason interjected, surprised by Sonny's restraint.

"I suggest you leave," Ray said holding back the things he wanted to say. _What kind of father tries to strike his own son, especially when it is clear he is injured and in no shape to fight? A malevolent ashhole._

"Clay, are you not man enough to talk to me without your bodyguards? Always needing someone else to fight your battles? There is no way in hell you will ever erase my footsteps," Ash bit out.

The conversation he had with his father in the motel parking lot came to mind. "That's what this is about? You're trying to ruin my career because I said I would erase your footsteps?"

"Ungrateful little shit. You wouldn't have even made it to green team without my legacy, my name."

"Your name. The name Ash Spenser is an anchor pulling me down. But no more. Brian was right, somethings you just have to let go, so I'm cutting you loose. You can never be what I wanted. Though related by blood, you have never been my father … only the sperm donor to my mom. You're a miserable excuse for a human. More concerned with looking in the mirror. I have family now … real family. People who care about me … something you never did."

Ash scoffed, "You think your team is family … that's some Seiver bullshit if I ever heard. You think they will stand by you when you can't operate anymore. No, they'll forget you ever existed."

Jason took a step forward, coming to his full imposing height, his eyes blazing. "The only person we will forget is you."

Clay's leg took that moment to go numb. He started to fall and five men reached out to grab him, preventing him from collapsing.

Ash stared. Not comprehending. "Were you hurt rescuing the Americans in Mozambique?"

"What?" Clay leaned more fully on Jason's sturdy arm since he was on his left side and wasn't holding anything in his hands.

"You, Bravo team rescued the five students," Ash stated but registered the blank expressions on all six men.

Trent said, "Pizza's getting cold. About time we head in, don't ya think?"

Clay turned with Jason's assistance and limped towards his building without another word to his father. After three steps, Ray took the six-pack from him.

Brock remained in place with Cerberus as the other men left.

Cerb continued a low, deep-throated, menacing growl.

In a soft voice, Brock said, "Get a good scent, Cerb. He is PNG. You will protect Clay from this ashhole if he ever comes around again."

Cerberus barked as if to say, "Roger." Then turned and padded after Brock, wanting to check to make sure his boy was okay.

Ash's jaw dropped as he stood watching everyone leave. He stormed off to his car determined to destroy his son's career. _My next interview I will drop the bomb about Mozambique and make hints Clay provided me all the details. My malcontent son will be off Bravo Team by next month, especially if the asshole Admiral Droit investigates the claim_.

* * *

 _ **Three Weeks Later – Virginia – DEVGRU TOC**_

Clay strolled into TOC, no indication of a limp left. He beamed because this morning he bested everyone on Bravo and Alpha as they ran the hills together. He was back and in tip-top shape and authorized for active duty.

"Well, it's about time you join us, Mr. Miracle," Sonny exclaimed.

Clay grinned … the number of nicknames just continued to grow. This one not as bad as others. He took his seat and turned his attention to the front where Blackburn stood.

"Thanks for coming in. We don't have a mission, but we do have some business to take care of."

The guys glanced at each other, wondering what was up, but when the door opened and Admiral Droit entered, they all rose and came to attention.

"At ease." Droit moved to the front and surveyed DEVGRU's best of the best as they took their seats. He cleared his throat. "Bravo team is to be commended for the successful rescue of Karen and Gareth Dilbert. Not your typical mission, but each of you performed admirably given difficult conditions. Special Warfare Operator Spenser, please rise."

Clay did as commanded, unsure what was going on, but noted the grins on his teammates, Davis, Ellis, and Blackburn.

"It is my honor to award you with a purple heart. The actions you took to protect a member of an allied force from certain death which resulted in life-threatening injuries to you are praiseworthy. As are your deeds on the island which lead to locating the Dilberts." Droit moved to Spenser and handed him a small velveteen box, and offered him a handshake.

Clay took the box, it would go in the drawer next to all his other purple hearts. Awards were not his thing, but he accepted it with grace and shook the admiral's hand. "Thank you, sir."

Returning to the front, Droit waited until Spenser resumed his seat. "We have one more matter to address. What I share here must remain in this room."

The team all shifted, giving Droit their undivided attention.

"We experienced a security breach. After a thorough investigation, we determined Petty Officer Marmoset, who recently joined Bravo support, is the mole who supplied Ash Spenser detail on the Saudi mission. As part of a plea deal, Marmoset assisted us with a sting operation to provide additional incorrect details to Ash and money exchanged hands for said intel.

"Recordings of the meeting have been turned over to the proper authorities who will pursue all legal recourses. I am sharing this with you because I want to make it clear that the chain of command fully acknowledges Clay Spenser had no hand in passing intel to his father."

Clay's jaw dropped, but then a smile formed as he said, "Thank you, sir."

Drawing in a breath, Droit focused on Clay. "Young man, you are not your father. You are honorable, loyal, and possess a genuine concern for others. In due time, when the name Spenser is spoken in these halls, the first thought in anyone's mind will be Clay Spenser. Your brightness will eclipse his shadow, and Ash will be forgotten. It is a distinct pleasure to have a sailor of your caliber under my command."

Astounded by the praise, Clay remained mum.

Droit grinned and chuckled finding it humorous he silenced a Spenser. "Good day, all." He strode from the room, unsure what would happen to Ash, but not really caring. His concern lay with the exceptional SEAL sitting in the TOC and he would go to the mat to defend Clay Spenser from any and all detractors … even the kid's own father.

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* * *

 **AN:** Sorry for the long wait, real life got in the way and reduced the amount of time I had to write. Hope this was worth the wait and gave everyone, who like me is jonesing for an episode, a little SEAL Team fix while we wait until March.

This story may turn out to be quite AU depending on what they do with the Ash situation in the series, but this is my take on it. I don't like Ash and it shows.

My excel file of contributors took a crash ... I will update this chapter with the list once I recreate it. Suggestions for N and O are most welcome.

 **AN:** Thanks to the keen eye of a fantastic reader. I have made a couple of changes in this story and previous ones with General Droit. I mixed up my service ranks ... SEALs are Navy, therefore General Droit should be Admiral Droit, and all references to soldiers should be sailors. Going back to clean up my mistakes.

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* * *

For those of you who love whump, you might want to check out my Beauty of Life series ... chocked full of whump and brotherhood with a little romance. Available on Amazon in both ebook and paperback formats ... just search for Laura Acton.

For my readers patiently waiting for the **9th book in my Beauty of Life series** , I can tell you **OUTCAST: Trust, Friendship, and Injustice** is close to completion. I'm currently working on chapter 58 and if everything works in my favor, I hope to have it published/available on Amazon in 2 or 3 weeks. But for now ... here is a little sneak peek from chapter 3 ...

 _ **May 7**_  
 _ **Alley – 7:00 a.m.**_

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, dulling the pain in his bicep, and reawakening his somewhat dormant soldier senses which kept him and his unit brothers alive for six years, Dan tugged out his earbuds. Peeking over the crates, he scanned the quiet street beyond for the presence of a continued threat. Clear for the moment he stole a glance at his bloody arm. _Yeah, only a graze. Not too deep, but gonna leave another scar._

His gaze returned to the rooftop across from him, searching for the sniper, analyzing the situation, and weighing prospects for the perch. The stench of rotting food in the communal dumpster in the alley obliterated any other odors. Given his location, an older section of the city occupied by mostly elderly residents with infrequent pedestrian and vehicular traffic at all hours of the day reduced Dan's worry for civilian involvement.

Though instructed not to contact any of the team, Dan realized TRF needed to be aware of an active shooter. After retrieving his cell from his front pocket, he clamped his hand on his wound again to stem the oozing. Choosing Boss' contact, his thumb hovered over the button as the hairs on the back of his neck prickled with a sense of danger and his ears picked up a soft footfall.

Before Dan could reach for his k-bar and pivot to check out who stood behind him, a voice ordered, "Drop the cell, raise your hands, and turn around or I shoot."

Dan partially complied. Releasing the hold on his arm, he stood and turned while lifting his hands, but he didn't drop his phone. Dread crept in as he faced two masked men aiming pistols with suppressors at him. He noted their positions, assessing his options. One closer than the other, but even with his speed and agility, both were too far away for an effective offensive move.

 _I'm at a significant disadvantage. I might be able to grab my knife and disable one, but the other will have the opportunity to fire before I can disarm him or take cover._ Drawing on training, attempting to slow things down and gain a modicum of control, Dan remained calm. "What do you want?"

The same voice as before came from the man closest to him as he demanded again, "Constable Broderick, I said drop your phone."

Hiding the shock which rippled through him as the man called him by name, Dan's mind worked fast. One question answered. _This isn't random. His voice sounds somewhat familiar, but I can't place him._

"I hate to repeat myself. I said let the phone fall, or you're dead where you stand. I'd be happy to put a bullet in your brain."

When both pistols leveled at his head, Dan touched call before he obeyed. As his mobile phone smacked the asphalt and bounced, he hoped the protective casing prevented it from breaking, and the call connected.

"Assume the position, turn around, put your hands against the wall, and spread your feet. Slow like. No sudden moves or they'll be your last," the armed assailant ordered.

With no options at the moment, as much as it galled him, Dan again submitted. He pivoted and placed both hands on the brick building. Pressing hard, he ensured he left a bloody handprint as his brain sought ways to stall for time. He calculated TRF's response time to this section of the city, and he needed about ten minutes.

Old fears of being taken captive tried to escape his mental lockbox. _When one comes close, I can make a move. I will not go down meekly. I refuse to be taken again._ As the second man came forward, Dan twisted and swung at the same time, landing a solid blow with his left fist.

Using his dominant hand to strike out had been natural, but the wrong move as it put his wound near his assailant. The stinging reciprocal blow delivered by the man to his injured bicep momentarily gave his aggressor the upper hand, enabling him to ram a pistol butt into Dan's cheek, knocking him back towards the crates. Seeking to immobilize him, his attacker grabbed and spun him, slamming his forehead into the bricks, then seized his wrist before forcibly twisting his arm behind his back.

Dan thrashed, until the muzzle of a Glock held by the other man pressed against his temple and the man growled, "Keep fighting, please. I'll happily decorate this wall with your brains."

Flicking his eyes right, Dan glimpsed his assailant's expression of malevolent pleasure and believed the explicit threat delivered in the man's maniacal tone. Self-preservation kicked in, and he went stock still when the one he hit methodically searched him and confiscated the tactical knife he always carried on his runs.

Hoping Boss answered and now listened, Dan spoke louder than necessary, "You can remove the gun from my temple. I'm cooperating now. I'm unarmed since you took my knife."

The weapon stayed in place as thug number two pushed him harder into the building and grabbed his other wrist, wrenching both arms painfully high before binding his hands with zip-ties. Manhandled, his body whipped around, causing his back to collide with the unforgiving, brick wall, Dan faced them again. Still needing to delay them, and give Boss more clues to his situation, Dan probed, "What do you want from me?"

Stepping back, but still leveling his gun at Dan, the one who spoke before replied, "We're waiting."

Dan frantically searched his memory for an identity to assign to the voice as a third man wearing a ski mask joined them. He noted the padded rifle case slung over his shoulder. Dan pinned his icy gaze directly on the new arrival. "You're the sniper who shot me. Why?"

The men remained silent, and Dan wondered why they waited since their attack on him appeared well-planned. _To set this up, they must've been watching me long enough to know my routes._ Worry for Lexa intensified as he thought about how the BDC stalked them all. In her current condition, Lexa would be vulnerable whether she admitted it or not.

Mentally sifting through several questions, Dan sought to understand who these men were. _Is this gang related? Are the Nores brothers out for revenge? Could this be connected to the Cignottis? Would either know me? No, my identity was not publicized when I neutralized Narciso and Pablo. Wait, Settimo Bewick knows my name and that I'm a cop. Could he be behind this attack?_

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU THREE? WHY DID YOU BIND MY HANDS?" Dan shouted trying to feed his team more information.

His questions again ignored as a phone rang. The only one to speak so far answered, "Boss?" He paused, listened, and said, "Yes," before disconnecting. A grin grew as he turned to his cronies. "It begins. Time to make him suffer."


	14. Nightmares and Nurturing

**Nightmares and Nurturing**

* * *

 ** _Clay's Apartment_**

"No. No. Noooo," vehemently emitted as he tossed and turned. The ground rushed up … it wouldn't be long before he impacted. Wind stole his screams … sending them upward as he prayed the reserve chute opened. "Noooooooooo!" His shoulder shaking forcefully brought him out of his nightmare. Taking several shaking breaths, he peered into concerned blue eyes.

"Nightmare? You okay?" Clay asked as he sat on the coffee table in front of his couch and gazed at Sonny. His brother's cries woke him from a sound sleep.

Running a hand over his forehead and into his dark hair, Sonny shifted, so he sat rather than laid. Placing his bare feet on terra firma, he couldn't resist his other hand snaking out and patting the kid's knee to ensure he was, in fact, real and not a figment of his overactive imagination.

"Wanna talk about it?" Clay set his hand over Sonny's, still surprised the strong man was having a nightmare on his couch. He wondered if it was a shark dream, but then realized it might be about his near death in the sub tube. That one still haunted Clay's dreams on occasion.

Quinn shook his head. "Nah … it was nothing." He stared at the blond kid. He couldn't get the thoughts of almost watching his little brother plummet to the earth in Nepal out of his head. They couldn't find out what the malfunction with his chute was because said chute disappeared along with the rest of the kid's gear. They forgot to ask about it when in Tibet … too focused on getting Clay to medical help.

Clay stood, not wanting to push. "K. Want something to drink … like water or juice?"

"Sorry to wake you. I'm supposed to be here taking care of you." Sonny let out another ragged breath and leaned back.

Wanting Sonny not to worry, Clay said, "Didn't wake me. Was just coming to pour myself some orange juice." He grabbed two glasses and poured one for both even though Sonny never answered him. Returning he handed one to Sonny then drank half of his.

Sonny toyed with the glass as he considered whether or not to talk to Clay. The kid shared his nightmares with him when he was in Mexico. Sonny shook his head. _Nope, not gonna burden him with my fears. He is probably scared to death to parachute again, and if not I don't want to put anything into his mind._

"What time is it?" Sonny asked before he took a sip.

"Just after five. Since we're both up … want to go for a walk?" Clay glanced around his apartment. He was going a bit stir crazy. He had been out of the hospital for a week now. On the mend, but not allowed to do much, not even jog, though in truth he wasn't up to jogging yet … but a walk would be nice.

Sonny grinned. "Sure. Let's head to the café down the street. They've got great waffles." He grabbed his jeans lying over the armrest and tugged them on before reaching for his socks, tucked into his shoes.

Clay pivoted and said, "Give me a few minutes … need to change the bandage on my thigh."

"Need help with your back?"

"Yeah. I'll holler when I'm ready." Clay shut his bedroom door, and he leaned his head on the wall. He hated to admit, but he needed the help and was thankful Sonny stayed here with him. He hadn't thought about the fact he wouldn't be able to change the dressings on his back himself.

He carefully pulled his damp t-shirt up and off, tossing it in his hamper on the way to the bathroom. His nightmares had been unrelenting lately, leaving him sweating bullets when he woke, but at least he didn't cry out at night, so Sonny remained unaware.

Clay stared at his reflection. "Wouldn't have been a pretty sight if the reserve chute didn't open. Would've been a closed casket funeral like Brian's and Adam's." Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Clay set about washing his hands before changing the bandage over his thigh graft. He became fastidious … not wanting to introduce any bacteria because he didn't want to go through hell again or have the graft fail and need to be redone.

As he dried both hands, his eyes landed on his pain meds. He avoided taking them like the plague. He would rather endure pain than chance becoming addicted, though Dr. Irving and Trent assured him this particular painkiller was non-habit forming. The risk was too great in his mind, and he worked too hard earning a spot on a top-tier team to throw it away by becoming hooked on drugs.

After changing the gauze on his leg, Clay tugged on a soft pair of sweats and chose to wear flip flops, because it required less bending and as a result, less pulling on his back. Once finished he opened the bedroom door. "Ready when you are."

"Let me wash up first, and I'll be right there," Sonny replied and then scrubbed his hands as if he was a surgeon about to operate. Then he picked up the bucket of supplies Trent put together and went to Clay's room.

He found the kid sitting on the edge of the bed and sat next to him. He pulled on a pair of gloves and began the process of removing the dressings, gently cleansing and drying the grafts, and recovering them with sterile gauze. "The docs did a great job. They even grafted the area where Carlson burned you with a poker."

"Yeah, though by necessity, not choice." Clay had yet to look at his back … he really didn't want to view the patchwork … especially if it looked anything like his thigh. Though not vain, and assured by the burn care doctors they would heal and not be too visible, he did wonder how women would react to his body.

His phone buzzing pulled him from his thoughts, and he scooted forward to grab his cell from the nightstand. He chuckled, wondering if she could read his mind. He answered with a true brightness in his tone. "Hey, Beautiful."

Sonny wondered who called until Clay's next words, which brought a genuine smile to his face.

"What time is it down under?"

"Not sure. Just landed at Norfolk International."

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I got two weeks leave … Koala, Danvers, Riley, and our rookie all came down with a nasty case of norovirus, so we are stood down, and I figured I'd come visit my ex-husband." Katie chuckled. "I hope now isn't a bad time. It's probably not the best idea to fly around the world unannounced, especially given your job, but hey, I wanted to see you and well, … I hopped on a plane."

"Couldn't be better timing. I can come pick you up," he turned to peer at Sonny, "um, wait, hang on a moment."

"Where and when?" Sonny asked.

"Norfolk International, now," Clay said, realizing he had not been cleared to drive.

"No problem … we'll grab breakfast on the way back."

"Sonny's gonna drive me there. We'll head out in a few minutes." Clay grinned. He could use a dose of Katie Kilpatrick.

"Um, Clay, … are you alright?" Katie halted near a bank of chairs.

"Tell you about it after we pick you up. Sorry to hear Koala is sick, but I'm glad you decided to come. I'll call you once we are close."

"K. See ya in a bit." Katie hung up. Clay's voice held a note of something that worried her, and she was glad she followed her intuition.

"So, the wifey decided to come for a visit?" Sonny chuckled.

Clay grinned. "Yep." He sighed. _Katie is_ _nonjudgmental and I can talk to her without fear of causing my brothers more worry._

Sonny finished up and then went to the bathroom to grab one of Clay's pain pills after he noticed the kid grimace as he pulled on a clean t-shirt. "Take this … you need it, and you don't want to be wincing in front of wifey now do you."

Clay took the pill and popped it in, dry swallowing, getting a satisfied smirk from Sonny. "Let's go."

* * *

 _ **Breakfast Café**_

Sonny requested a table rather than a booth because it was easier for Clay to get up and down without sliding. He grinned at Katie as he placed his cowboy hat on the empty fourth seat. "How long are you planning on staying?"

"About nine days. Need a bit of time to reacclimate upon my return … Koala wouldn't appreciate me being jet-lagged."

"Perfect … just about the amount of time Garfield here needs to lounge around and do nothing but eat lasagna." Sonny chuckled at the sour expression Clay shot his way.

"Okay, so I can tell you hurt, what happened?" Katie clasped Clay's hand, but his explanation had to wait until the waitress took their order.

"My main chute failed to open … landed in some trees … some other crap happened, but I'm okay." Clay downplayed and remained vague never knowing what ears might be around, and as much as he liked Katie, she wasn't cleared to know the details.

"Ouch, sounds painful." Katie squeezed his hand.

"That's an understatement," Sonny interjected.

Katie eyed Clay but understood not to ask more in public. He would explain what he could later in private. "So no chance of you being spun up while I'm here. My timing was perfect. Perhaps a day at the beach? Maybe some surfing? Or just lazing in the sand."

Clay shook his head. "Maybe a short walk, but I can't be in the sun much … swimming is out." Clay changed the subject. "Why didn't you head home for your break. Bet your grandparents would've been happy to have you visit."

Katie grinned. "They set out on a three-week cruise one day before I found out I would have time off. Could've joined them, but a cruise ship filled with nothing but oldies didn't sound as much fun as popping over here."

Clay chuckled. "You might've had more excitement on the oldies cruise than you will here. I'm pretty much relegated to my place. This is the first time out of my apartment in the last week."

"I'd be happy to show Katie around," Sonny suggested just to get a rise out of the kid. He liked tugging his tail.

"No. Um, well, maybe if that is what Katie wants …" Clay reacted but then trailed off as he realized Sonny was only teasing.

Waffles, pancakes, and omelets were delivered, interrupting the conversation. Katie asked the waitress, "Do you have Nutella?"

"Yes, I'll bring some in a moment."

After the chocolatey spread was handed over, Katie slathered on a thick amount on her pancakes. "Can't have enough of this. If people wouldn't stare, I'd eat the stuff right out of the jar."

Clay dug into his eggs, happy to eat something other than hospital food and Sonny's burnt toast and bagels for breakfast. Lunches weren't so bad … Sonny couldn't screw up sandwiches, and dinners had been great with the meals Lisa, Naima, and Jason's mom prepared for them to reheat.

After sating his hunger, Clay asked, "Where are you planning on staying? If you haven't booked a hotel … you could stay at my place."

Sonny kept quiet and smiled as Katie answered the way he wanted.

"I didn't book one because I wasn't sure if you would be here. Thought I would travel the states a bit if you were busy. I'd love to crash at your place."

"Do you cook?" Sonny asked.

"Yeah, why?" Katie glanced between Clay and Sonny as she read the humor between them.

"Sonny's been trying to kill me with burnt toast … swear my smoke alarm has gone off every day."

Sonny rolled his eyes. "Now that ain't true."

"Is too. Need to buy a new toaster after yesterday's fire."

"Hey … not my fault, those onions on the outside of the bagels you like wouldn't have ignited if the pop-up mechanism worked properly."

"How about we swing by a grocery store on the way to your place if you are up for a little walk? I'll make lasagna for dinner since Sonny says you are supposed to lounge around." Katie took another bite of her Nutella laden pancakes.

"Yeah, I'm up for that." Clay grinned, having Katie here would be fun … breakfast this morning was just the right amount of normalcy he needed to help him deal with everything in his life.

* * *

 _ **Bravo Equipment Cages**_

Jason peered up as the door opened and demanded, "What are you doing here? Who is with Clay?"

"Hold on there … no need to go all neurotic neanderthal on me," Sonny drawled. "Left him in excellent hands. His wifey is all nurturing, and as I recall was on the path to becoming a doctor before switching to be a pilot then joining SAS."

"Katie's here?" Jason set his rifle down.

"Yes, siree. Flew in this morning. She's got nine days off to pamper our boy. From the looks of our shopping trip, he's gonna be well nourished." Sonny sauntered over to his cage and opened it up, realizing the questions would fly at him.

"Did she know he was injured?" Ray strolled out of his area.

"Nope, but Clay explained what he could once we arrived back at his apartment. No mission specifics, but she is aware of the skin grafts. She told me she is versed in caring for burns and grafts. Seems her father had some at one point in his career and she nursed him back to health."

Brock patted Cerb's head, the bald spot almost gone now as new hair grew where Clay yanked it out. None of them ever told the kid what happened; they just went with Sonny's initial story. "Kid needs someone to talk too. I hope he opens up with Katie. Did he have a nightmare again last night?"

"Yeah, a doosey, but like the rest, he doesn't recall waking or crying out, or he is trying to pretend like they aren't occurring. He woke up at two this morning puking and sweating — damn good thing he has many t-shirts the same color. I dropped off the laundry to Lisa … so Young Buck isn't the wiser that I cleaned him up and put him back to bed. I clued Katie in on things when I sent Clay to take out the garbage." Sonny took a seat on his box.

"She okay with playing nursemaid to him?" Trent moved towards Sonny.

"Yeah, but I plan on staying a few more nights … in case she needs help. Don't think this is quite what she planned for her vacation, but she seems to care a lot about him and didn't flinch away from what he needs. Hell, I think Katie might be the answer to all Ray's prayers."

"God does work in mysterious ways. Sent an earthly angel to help the kid." Ray grinned and sent a silent thank you to the man upstairs.

* * *

 _ **Clay's Apartment**_

A wonderful aroma enticed Clay from his nap. He had not planned on nodding off, but apparently, the walk around the grocery store and two trips up and down the stairs to his place wore him out. He blinked his lids open and twisted his head towards the kitchen. Katie's wheat blonde hair caught the sunlight, creating a golden halo around her lovely face.

"Smells delicious … lasagna?" Clay shifted up, wincing slightly as his mostly unused muscles complained. Five weeks of doing nothing except lying in bed or sitting on his couch left him weak like a newborn.

In the process of slicing carrots for the salad to go with the main dish, Katie set the paring knife down and peered at Clay. "You're awake. How did you sleep?"

"Decent. What time is it?"

Picking up the knife again and continuing, Katie answered, "Almost five. Told Sonny to invite all of the team over … there will be more than enough. I never learned to cook for two. Nana always fed all the hands who worked at the station, so dinner usually meant cooking for a dozen men with hearty appetites."

"A woman of many talents." Clay stood and wandered to the counter separating the two rooms. He snagged a carrot and munched on it. "So, the whole team is coming?"

"Yeah. And Davis too." Katie grinned. "I like her. She would make an exceptional officer."

"Funny you should say that. She's going to OCS. We're gonna miss her when she's gone. She works magic, and we always have exactly what we need on a mission."

Katie nodded as Clay munched on the vegetables she intended for the salad, but since he slept through lunch, heck most of the afternoon, she realized he must be hungry, and she could always chop more veggies.

She decided to hold off broaching the subjects which concerned her … she would have time enough in the next nine days. Tonight, Katie would simply smile and ensure Clay enjoyed a lighthearted evening. She found it surprising Sonny confided in her regarding Clay's struggles, but she was glad he did. With a little luck, she might be able to help him work through his nightmares.

Clay snagged another piece of celery then realized he made a huge dent in what must be for the dinner salad. "Um, sorry."

"Eat up. You missed lunch, and you're due for your meds … shouldn't take them on an empty stomach."

"Don't need meds." Clay popped another olive in his mouth.

Katie waggled the little knife at him. "Don't be naughty and make me put you in a headlock to force them down your throat. Controlling your pain will help speed your rehab … and I'm here to help you do that. After everyone leaves, we'll work on some gentle stretches, and I'll give you a massage, so you're not so stiff."

Unable to stop the chuckle, Clay's mind ended up squarely in the gutter … her hands stroking his body would definitely make a certain part of his anatomy stiff. He shifted … the very thought of the time they shared as a pretend newlywed couple caused him to stiffen. To avoid an embarrassing tent, Clay headed for the bathroom to grab his meds.

Watching Clay's slow gait, Katie smiled. "Don't you be getting any ideas. We're divorced, remember?"

"Me? Ideas? I'm not the one who mentioned massages," Clay threw over his shoulder as he recalled the first time they engaged in bedsports. It started with an innocent offer of a massage after a day of kayaking.

* * *

 _ **Lisa's Apartment**_

"No. Oh, God … no." Lisa moaned as she tossed and turned in the throes of another nightmare. She jolted up in her bed, and the tears started again. Glancing to her right, she found Sonny staring at her with eyes full of concern.

Awoken by Lisa's cries, having been attuned to listening for Clay's nightmares the past week, finding it was Lisa worried him. Sonny held off reaching for her … unsure what type of comfort she might accept. "Hey …"

Lisa shifted and lay on Sonny. "Hold me."

His strong arms came around her smaller body, and he stroked her hair. "I'm here …" he was unsure what else to say. He wasn't all that good at relationships, and he didn't want to take a wrong step. When they left Clay's after a lighthearted night of hanging out and a delicious meal, Lisa suggested he come over, and he wasn't about to decline.

Blowing out a shaky breath, Lisa buried herself in the crook of Sonny's shoulder. Usually, a strong woman the last two missions threw her off balance. First Sonny almost died in the tube, and then Clay almost plummeted to his death. "This is my fault."

"What?" Confused, Sonny wanted to push Lisa back to read her face, but he kept her exactly where she was … especially when she clung tightly to him. This was a new side of Lisa he had never experienced … vulnerability.

"Clay … I'm responsible for his gear … the parachute … I almost killed him."

Sonny pushed her back and sat up. "Wait … No! Don't you go there! That isn't your fault. No way in hell."

Surprised by the vehemence of Sonny's reaction, Lisa stared. "But I—"

"But nothing. Listen here, missy. Yeah, we joke about you packing our chutes, but we all know riggers do the chutes. You only make sure they are on the plane. We'll never know what caused the main to fail because none of us thought about searching for his chute or the log to know who packed it."

Lisa swiped a hand across her eyes. "You don't blame me?"

"No … never in a million years. And neither does anyone else on Bravo … not even Goldilocks." Sonny pulled Lisa to him again. "Now, you get that nasty thought out of your head. Shit happens … part and parcel with this job."

Allowing herself to meld into Sonny's comfort, something she never thought possible, new tears fell. Unsure whether she should take the risk since neither possessed a decent track record with relationships, she would allow herself this night of solace in the arms of a man she … well, she still wasn't sure if it was love, but she would like to find out.

As they lay down, Lisa's mind, now cleared of the guilt she had been carrying ever since the HAHO jump into Nepal, lit upon something which might solve the mystery. "I can find out who packed the chute."

"You can? How?"

"Part of my job is to inventory everything. By process of elimination, since we have everyone's chutes except Clay's I can determine which rigger packed his chute. But that won't necessarily tell us what caused the failure." Lisa snuggled closer, sleep now a possibility.

"No, but it will give us someone to go talk to," Sonny grinned. A long overdue conversation … someone needed to be held accountable for the chute failure … he just didn't know if it was bad luck or something nefarious, but what he did know was he would find out. His fingers glided up and down Lisa's silky skin, enjoying her in his arms.

* * *

 _ **Trent's Place**_

Sliding out of bed, so he didn't disturb Dawn who slept soundly, Trent wandered to the kitchen and opened the fridge. His hand went straight for a beer, but at the last second, he deviated and latched onto a water bottle. He shut the door and raked a hand through his sweaty hair as he shuffled to the arcadia door leading to his balcony.

Outside he uncapped the bottle and guzzled half as he stared up at the moon. Before the mission in Nepal, he never had difficulty sleeping … never plagued by nightmares … but ever since returning home, not a night went by he didn't wake sweating and shaking. He lost teammates before … Nate the most recent, but his mind logically understood he couldn't save everyone. Nate had been dead before anyone realized he was bleeding, and even if they had … the bullets destroyed his carotid, and he was beyond saving.

However, … Clay … their rookie. He couldn't get the soft begging to quit haunting his dreams … turning them into frigging nightmares. Needy, blood-filled, blue eyes would stare at him as the kid pleaded for relief … which he denied him every time like some disgusting, evil bastard.

Never before had he ever caused someone such pain. Yeah, sure he set some nasty compound fractures, used tourniquets on blown off limbs, put pressure on gapping gut wounds … but in every case, he was able to shoot his patient with some morphine. But for Clay, he couldn't and ah hell that hurt him too … deep inside … in a place he kept hidden from everyone. A compartment where he shoved all his emotions while he did what was necessary to save a life rather than providing nurturing, so he could become numb to the noxious things he must sometimes do … like denying Clay any relief.

Dawn slipped her hands around Trent's waist as her head came to rest on his shoulder. "Trouble sleeping?"

Trent lay a hand over hers at his midsection and let out a soft sigh. "No, only thirsty."

"Hmmm … you've been thirsty every night since you returned. Talk to me. Something is clearly bothering you."

"Nothing to talk about." Trent twisted around in her arms, so he was facing her and bent his head to kiss her.

After their lips separated, Dawn said, "Liar."

"What?" Trent blinked. His ex-wife never called him on the carpet when he deflected. Not that she ever asked him about his job or ever noticed when something troubled him. But Dawn wasn't his ex, and she seemed more perceptive.

"I realize you can't tell me anything of your mission … but ever since you've been back, you don't sleep through the night. And you are tossing and turning a lot more than normal. I'm a decent listener, and sometimes it just helps to say out loud what is disturbing you … a way to set it free." Dawn peered up at Trent, hopeful he would let her in, and she might be able to help silence the noise in his mind and nourish his soul.

Not a man of many words, he embraced Dawn tucking her head into his shoulder as he said words he never thought he would give voice to, "I hate being a medic sometimes … it is so hard. I had to hurt my brother to save him … he begs me every night to stop his pain and every time I tell him no."

Understanding lit in Dawn's mind. "Clay is alive because of you."

His eyes popping wide, he pushed Dawn back. "How do you know that?"

"Well, I overheard you on the phone with Dr. Irving a couple of times checking on Clay since you returned. You're still worried he might become addicted to pain med. He was burned, and I put two and two together."

Dawn caressed Trent's cheek. "You carry a heavy burden … one as weighty if not more substantial than Hayes. Your ability to take care of your brothers when they need you most … utterly amazing. Something you should be proud of … I know I am. You, Trent Sawyer, are my Knight-errant, a noble and chivalric man with a heart of pure gold and skilled hands."

She kissed him and then whispered, "Come back to bed … and put those hands to good use. She clasped his hand, and led him inside … a little distraction would help ease his burden now, and a little exertion would help him sleep the remainder of the night. Tomorrow she would encourage him to talk more and unburden his worries to her … she would help him find peace.

* * *

 ** _Ray's Home_**

Standing in the doorway of his son's room, Ray wondered about the evil in the world. How would God allow children to be sold into slavery? Innocent souls being destroyed for mere greed. He lifted a glass to his lips and took a long draw. The burn of the single malt whiskey caused him to pause. _What the hell am I doing?_

From their bedroom, Naima observed Ray, and her concern spiked, but she was at a loss how to help him lately. His crisis of faith was taking a toll, and this last mission seemed to enlarge instead of narrow the chasm. If she didn't figure something out, she might lose the man she loved.

Turning, Ray's eyes landed on Naima at the same time he squeezed too hard and the glass shattered in his hand, slicing his thumb.

"Raymond!" Naima rushed forward her hands going directly to his, applying pressure to the cut. She pulled him with her to the bathroom across the hall.

Allowing his wife to rinse his bloody hand as he stared at the pinkish liquid swirling down the drain and images of the blood-filled glass cups on Clay's back came to mind. "Evil exists. Nothing I do stops it. Thought I made a difference and good would ultimately win," he mumbled.

Naima caught the whiff of whiskey on Ray's breath. Noting the cut was shallow, nothing which would require stitches, she grabbed a towel and guided him to the tub's edge and made him sit. "Let me bandage this, and then I'll clean up the shattered glass."

Ray met Naima's eyes. "I'm adrift."

Wrapping a towel around his hand first, Naima pulled her husband into her arms. "I'm your anchor. Hold on … I won't let go, baby." Ray shuddered in her arms, and she held fast. Burly Navy SEALs needed to cry upon occasion, and her husband needed an outlet for whatever horrors he had witnessed and endured lately.

His world had begun to spin out of control after Mexico, and Naima was uncertain if it had to do with almost losing Clay to a psychotic narcotics kingpin or something else … though she strongly suspected something shook his foundations.

"Mommy, is Daddy hurt?"

Ray lifted his head, tears in his eyes as he peered at his baby girl.

Naima released Ray, pivoted and stood. "Yes. He cut his hand. Mommy is washing it out."

"He's crying." Jameelah's eyes widened with concern.

Naima took their daughter's hand and led her back to her bedroom. After settling her in bed and tucking her in, she said, "Daddy is just fine …" she lied, well partially, with prayer and the grace of God she would find out what Ray needed and help him.

"Daddy's don't cry."

"Yes, they do, but not often. Daddy's sometimes need a good cry like us to feel better afterward."

Jameelah accepted what her mom said. "Hug Daddy and tell him I love him."

Naima smiled. "I will, and you can tell him at breakfast tomorrow too." She shut the door on her way out, and upon turning to go back to the bathroom, she spotted Ray with the trash bin picking up shards of glass from the floor. "Let me do that."

Ray shook his head. "My mess to clean up." He held his still bleeding hand close to his chest.

She knelt beside him and assisted, the clinking of broken glass the only sound. Once the task was finished, Naima grabbed the bin and Ray's uninjured hand and took both to the kitchen. She opened the cupboard and withdrew their first aid kit. "Sit and let me take care of you."

Using an antiseptic wipe, she cleaned the cut, put on a dab on antibiotic ointment and adhered a band-aid. Then she clasped his hand in both of hers and brought it to her heart. "Talk to me, baby. Tell me what is in your mind."

Ray allowed the tears to well once more. "So much … too much."

"One thing then … just one," Naima encouraged. It would only take one thing to lance the necrotic wound then she could help neutralize the festering infection before it consumed the man she loved dearly.

As a tear slipped out and rolled down, Ray said, "Jameelah is the same age as one of the girls we rescued from a brothel." He sucked in a shuddery breath. "Just a baby … and evil, such evil perpetrated on someone so innocent. Why would God allow such a thing?"

Naima swallowed hard, but her voice came out calm. "God sent you and your team to rescue her. You make a difference … because of you, that little girl will live a vastly different life now. The light must constantly fight against the dark … for if those who stand for good stop, the flame of all we believe will extinguish and light will be non-existent, and all will become dark."

She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it. "Warriors such as you pay a huge price … what you endure, what you witness, and sometimes what you must do take a toll on your soul. But without you … then all is lost, and evil wins."

Ray bowed his head … his faith still shaken, but for now, he would allow Naima to be his mooring line … her hold would keep him from slipping until he sorted everything out. Lifting his head, he said, "Shall we go back to bed?"

Naima stood, and when Ray did, she wrapped one arm around his waist, while still holding fast to his hand as she navigated them to their room.

* * *

 _ **Jason's Home**_

Lying on the roller under his car, eyes closed, Jason sought to attain peace of mind. He had not been able to sleep much and woke at four this morning after another nightmare. Dreams of Clay hanging from a tree yelling for help as he turned his back on the kid and walked away haunted Jason since returning a week ago.

He decided to come out to the garage seeking calm, but it was not working. "Three hundred yards … only another fifteen minutes of searching and we would've had him. Only three—"

"And what about the women you saved? If you had continued after Clay … what of them? Perhaps your conversation would be, if only I had stopped looking for Clay and gone after them, they would be alive."

Jason pushed out from under the car and sat up … not believing his sight or ears. "Alana?"

"Answer me. What about those you saved? You arrived just as those men were about to rape them. They remained unharmed because you made the hard choice … the only one you could in your position."

"You can't be here … you're dead." Jason blinked, and when she remained, he shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Open your eyes. I'm not going anywhere. Now answer my question." Alana sat in front of Jason.

Cracking his eyelids, Jason blew out a breath. "Sleep deprivation … you're a figment of my tired mind."

"Maybe … or maybe not. You gonna avoid giving me an answer? If so, I gotta tell ya … I can stay here all night. Heck, I can remain until you respond." Alana smiled.

Jason stared at his hallucination. "They might be dead … would've been raped, yes. Satisfied?"

"Question is, are you? And would Clay be satisfied with that outcome?"

"Why are you bringing up Clay?"

"Cause all this," Alana made a swirling motion near her head, "is because of a young man who you care deeply about. I'm not sure what it is about him, something nebulous and hard to define, but ever since Spenser joined your team, well, frankly you all have been a little different.

"As much as you loved Nate. And as much as you care for Ray, Sonny, Trent, Brock, and Cerberus too. You wouldn't be beating yourself to a pulp over the decision to go search for the women if it had been any one of them whose chute didn't open and they ended up off course and in a tree."

Jason gaped. "What the fuck, Alana? Yes, I would."

"Remember, I know you, Jason Hayes. No. You. Wouldn't." Alana arched a brow then she smiled. "Perhaps he needs a father figure, and you are willing to be that to him. I mean, you do refer to him as the Kid when he is a full-grown man and an elite SEAL too."

"We all call him Kid because he is the rookie and so damned young," Jason countered.

A lilting laugh filled the air. "Oh, Jace … do you hear yourself? Clay isn't any younger than you when you went to BUD/S and joined Bravo. He only seems young to you … well, because he has a boyish charm," Alana sighed, "and a vulnerability about him. He needs all of you … you are his only family."

Jason sagged against the car door and dropped his face into his hands. "And I left him hanging three hundred yards away and then he is tortured for two weeks. I sent him out in Mexico with Sonny, and he gets impaled and hoisted up by a whaling hook and almost hung off the side of a building.

"I nearly took his head off when he was a strap … after he probably saved our lives from a creeper in the tunnels. I made him run laps on the plane when he had a kidney infection and wouldn't listen to his explanation, and he almost died there too.

"He saves my ass on the oil platform … I lose him in Argentina, and he gets shot in the ass by a nutty woman who was hunting him for sport. I take him to Ecuador, and a narcissistic CIA operative knifes him, electrocutes him and takes a red-hot poker to his back. An in Australia he gets speared and nearly drowns. I'm gonna get that kid killed. I should've never drafted him. He would be safer with another team."

A hand landing on his shoulder brought Jason's head whipping up. Surprise lit his face. "Mandy?"

"Sorry, saw the light on, and heard you talking, so I came in." She crouched in front of Jason. "And you're wrong."

"Wrong?"

"About Clay being safer without you. You and the rest of the team are the reason he is well, still alive. He's a trouble magnet. Not his fault, but heck, if something is going to go wrong during a mission … he will be the first one touched by fate."

Mandy sat and continued, "You guys rescued him from that basement when you went after the downed drone. Also, from Dongola when he went with Delta. I can name so many incidents and every single one of them, if you ask Clay, he will say he was happy to be with Bravo and glad Jason Hayes is his team leader. He looks up to you all, but especially you."

Her expression became serious. "Every single one of you would have gone AWOL to find him. I'm sorry the deal I cut to make that happen required you to be gone for four weeks, but perhaps some good came from that too."

"Like what? We weren't here for him." Jason scanned the area, somewhat hoping to see Alana again, but the illusion of his soulmate was gone.

"How did he react when you entered his room?"

"Why?"

"It's important. What's the first thing the kid did?" Mandy pushed a little.

"Smiled and said 'A sight for sore eyes. You're back.'"

"Uh-huh, and what does that tell you?"

"Don't know. He knew we left him alone."

"Quit being a stubborn ass. You're not that naïve … never have been. His words tell you he knew you would visit when your job allowed and he didn't doubt it for a moment." She let Jason absorb that for several moments before she said, "It's okay you know?"

"What's okay?"

"To care about him … like a son. But it isn't okay or fair to place this burden on yourself. He chose this life. Spenser is fully aware of the risks just like the rest of you. It's not right to hold yourself to a different standard when it comes to Clay."

Jason pushed up to his feet. He didn't want to respond to her statement so found an out. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night? Don't you ever sleep?"

Mandy laughed as she rose too. "On occasion."

"And why are you here?"

"Truth?"

"Would be nice." Jason leaned against his car.

"Couldn't sleep. Was out driving around with no place in particular in mind and somehow ended up here. All those women and children you guys saved—"

"We saved … you included. Your intel put us in the right places," Jason interjected.

Mandy inhaled deeply and exhaled gradually. "Okay, yeah, not boots on the ground … okay. But, well, it just nauseates me how many people are still put in that position. Everywhere … we take down one bad guy, and another pops up."

She backed up to the wall, wondering why she ended up here, and glad Jason didn't ask her to clarify why. The only possible explanation she might give is that she found his company reassuring. She could talk to him … in some ways they were birds of a feather but in others quite different.

"It's nearly five. I'm not gonna fall back asleep tonight. Want some coffee?" Jason pushed off the car. For whatever reason Mandy showed up here … perhaps Alana in some way facilitated it, and he wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, cause if his kids found him talking to himself like Mandy had, they would worry his mind had flipped.

Mandy nodded and chuckled. "So, you finally learned how to use the coffee maker?"

"Nope, that's why I asked you if you wanted some." Jason grinned.

She laughed and followed Jason inside. It was good to have a friend to count on, especially with her nomadic lifestyle. Maintaining friendships outside of this life was difficult … mostly because anyone not living this kind of life, would never comprehend what they must mentally process daily.

* * *

 _ **Clay's Apartment**_

Trapped … on his stomach … fire eating at his back, Clay couldn't take any more and let out a scream.

"CLAY! CLAY!" Katie shouted. Clay had been moaning and whimpering in his sleep for several minutes, and she tried to wake him gently, but his scream changed her tactics. She shook him hard, needing to break through.

Sucking in a breath, Clay opened his eyes. He was not trapped, he could see … and what he glimpsed startled him. His one words came out with a rush of air, "Katie."

Moving close, compassion in her eyes, her fingers caressed Clay's cheek. "There you are. Worried me for a moment."

He allowed his lids to shut, embarrassed to be caught in a nightmare in front of her, but didn't pull away from her soft touch. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"Nothing to be sorry about. Want to tell me about it?"

"No, not really."

"Reliving the torture?"

"Yeah."

"Must've been frightening."

"Not really?"

"You certain?" Katie continued to stroke his face and began to trace his facial features, allowing her fingertip to follow his jawline.

"Mostly out of it. The woman who cared for me drugged me with opium and something else. All I really remember was pain when the drugs wore off, but if I stuck out my tongue, she gave me more." Clay opened his eyes to judge her reaction.

"So, in a way, she was trying to help you."

"Yeah. Trent said the quack caused all my pain … except for the thigh wound. Trent thinks I whacked my head on a branch or something and I was concussed. If they had just left me alone after cauterizing my leg then …" he trailed off.

"Still traumatic. Nightmares are normal. I know."

"You have them?"

Katie shook her head. "No. But Pops did after he was burned. His grafts covered the back of both calves. His legs got trapped when a building exploded, and it took some time for his squad to locate him and put out the fire. Could've been worse my pops always said. He could've died that day. But I got another ten years with him."

Getting up the nerve to ask, Clay said, "My back, how's it look? I haven't …" Clay halted.

"How about I take the bandages off, and you can shower? Then you can see your badges of courage for yourself before I put new dressings on."

Clay nodded and pushed up. The motion bringing to mind the memory of digging for morphine. He sat on his heels. He found it so easy to talk to Katie … he could never have this type of conversation with Stella. "The guys are worried I'm gonna go down the path of drug addiction. Sonny lost a friend … he OD."

"And you … are you worried?"

His eyes darted to the side a moment as he confessed, "Crossed my mind. I read up on it and morphine, and opium can be quite addictive. But I worked so hard to get where I'm at. I don't have to tell you the kind of drive it takes to make it into positions as we have. When we almost lost Sonny," Clay let out a ragged breath.

Katie ran her hand down Clay's arm. "Breathe … just breathe a moment."

Composing himself, Clay shared, "Sonny, said joining the teams was the best decision he ever made and the best decision I ever made too, and this is who we are. He's right. When I was in Green Team and made it to the end, one of my cohorts asked me which team I hoped would draft me. I said I hadn't thought about it. I lied. I ran once with Bravo, and that is where I wanted to end up. The guys, Davis, even Ellis … they're my family now."

Meeting Katie's gaze, Clay exhaled heavily again. "I don't want to let them down. If I don't have them … I don't have anyone."

"You have me. You're not going to let them down … or yourself. But I want you to promise me something."

"If I can."

Katie smiled. "If you ever … and I mean EVER feel the pull of narcotics you call one of your brothers or me. None of us will judge you, and we will help you through the rough patch. This is not something you have to do alone."

"You have my word." Clay leaned forward and kissed her. Pulling back, he grinned. "SEALed with a kiss."

"Mmmm might need a bit more SEALing. How about I wash your back for you in the shower?"

"I'm not supposed to exert myself," Clay joked as he tugged his shirt over his head and presented his back to Katie.

"Leave everything to me … no exertion necessary on your part," Katie reached out and carefully peeled off the tape holding the non-stick gauze in place. Upon viewing the reddened area, she spoke honestly, "In a year, these grafts will be mostly invisible. Whoever did these, possesses phenomenal skills. Even the one over your right kidney will be barely noticeable."

* * *

 _ **Brock's Home**_

Groggily Brock shuffled into the kitchen, noted the time to be eight a.m., and flicked on the coffee maker, glad he prepared it last night before attempting to sleep. Again, his slumber had been interrupted by nightmares. He couldn't seem to erase the memory of the blackened foot.

Yes, he reminded himself, it was not the kid's foot, which relieved him, but the gruesome murder of an innocent still plagued him. The charred extremity belonged to a young man who died a rather horrific death while trying to help Clay.

Slumping on to the stool at his island counter, waiting for the liquid caffeine to brew, Brock ran a hand through his mass of messy black curls. He realized he needed a haircut as much as Clay did. The others on the team, those with straight hair could get away with just slicking back long locks, but he, Ray and Clay couldn't. Their mops required trimming. Though luckily, only Spenser was ever teased about his long curls … mostly because they made him appear even younger than he was.

When the pot filled halfway, Brock rose and poured himself a cup, glad he sprang for an upgraded model which halted the drip when he removed the carafe mid-cycle. Returning to his seat, Brock took a much-needed sip after blowing on the hot coffee. He yawned and figured he only achieve four hours of rest … better than previous nights all week, but still a long way from normal.

Waking a bit more, Brock scanned the area, realizing Cerb had not followed him in like usual. Concerned, he set the mug down and went back to his bedroom in search of his dog. Relief flooded in … not sure why he expected something else, but a niggling thought had him worrying about Cerberus. A slow grin grew as he leaned on the doorjamb staring at his pup.

The source of his worry popped in as Brock spied the material tucked under Cerb's head. He thought about the vet's supposition Cerb might be suffering from Dog PTSD before they were spun up for the rescue mission of Delta Team and Clay from Dongola. At the time he dismissed Dr. Denzel's assertations as being baseless.

Since returning though, Cerb's behavior nagged at him, and he began to wonder if DPTSD was real. His pup noiselessly padded around at all hours of the night … something he was only aware of now because he too was awake. On occasion, Cerb whimpered in his sleep, twitched, and made growling noises.

But last night, Cerb slept soundly … never moved from his spot on his plush bed in the corner. Now Brock knew why. Somehow, Brock was unsure how, because he certainly hadn't noticed yesterday when they left Clay's after a wonderful dinner of lasagna and an hour or so of just hanging out, Cerb managed to snag one of Clay's cotton t-shirts.

Brock didn't need to view the whole article to recognize the shirt belonged to Spenser … the printed 6B9 on the sleeve was proof enough. Not wanting to disturb Cerb's restful slumber, Brock turned and exited his room. _At least one of us is sleeping well again_.

* * *

 _ **Beach**_

Under a huge umbrella Lisa procured just for him, which blocked out UV rays, Clay sat and dug his bare toes into the warm sand as he gazed out at the ocean. A smile firmly in place, his eyes moved along the shoreline taking in the sights of his family as they all enjoyed a day at the beach before Katie hopped on a plane and headed home tomorrow.

Jason with Mikey, Emma, and Katie were on surfboards just beyond where waves broke. Two nights ago, when he and Katie ate dinner at Jason's home, Katie promised to help teach Mikey to surf. Closer to shore Ray, Trent, and Dawn boogie boarded with Jameelah. The little girl having the time of her life.

Sonny and Lisa were busy building a sandcastle and Ray's son who was now walking well, kept acting as Godzilla and stomping on their efforts while Naima stood by taking pictures and laughing. Brock continued to throw Cerb's ball into the water, and the pup joyfully bounded in and swam to retrieve it time after time.

The only two missing were Blackburn and Ellis. They planned to come, but something came up, and they had to back out of attending this afternoon, but hopefully would make it for drinks later at the local bar. Even with them missing, today was perfection for Clay.

Although he couldn't join in the activities, having to keep out of the sun due to his grafts, he reveled in being here with family. Today might be nostalgic for some of the guys, but for Clay, with a mom unable to cope being a single mother followed by her death, a negligent father absent from his life, and grandparents more focused on missionary work than planning a fun outing with him, a day like this was nonexistent in his childhood.

Clay relaxed, leaning back in the low beach chair, closing his eyes, and inhaling the fresh salty scent as he recalled the last week with Katie. Idyllic … mostly. Her nurturing helped speed his recovery in many ways.

He slept like a rock with her lying beside him. Clay still didn't quite understand why but reasoned that perhaps talking about his nightmares released his demons and allowed him uninterrupted slumber. Or possibly it was the massages she gave him that led to other stimulating activities which provided him an intense release and left him wiped out … at least until the next opportunity, which usually started with kissing or a steamy shower.

She also helped him realize any woman shallow enough to find his grafts ugly or repulsive was not the lady for him. He needed someone who would strive to understand the man inside the skin and accept him for who he was and what mattered to him … period. Anything less, well, he had been down that road with Stella and had his heart ripped out.

Clay let out a sigh. Part of him wished Katie and he could be a couple but realized both needed their chosen paths, and they were better as friends … with benefits.

"Hey, Clay, you doin' alright?" Brock dropped onto a towel next to Clay's chair, gripping Cerb's ball in his hand.

Opening his eyes and turning his head, Clay grinned. "Yep. Cerb wear your arm out?" He passed Brock a can of soda.

Brock chuckled as Cerb lopped towards them, his tongue hanging out and his fur dripping wet. "Yeah … he can keep it up for hours."

Cerb targeted his boy … ready for a little payback… just a tad. Bounding up to Clay, he came to an abrupt halt and shook like the dickens from head to tail, spraying his boy with water. Cerb's eyes held merriment as Clay reacted.

After Clay unfurled, wiping water from his sunglasses and chuckling at Cerb's antics, he said, "It's almost as if he planned that. I swear he is smiling at me."

"Woof, bark, yap." _Haha got you back for pulling out my hair._

Clay tilted his head and spied the spot where the guys said Cerb rubbed his hair off. It never sounded quite right to him and a vague memory filtered in. "Ah, damn … I pulled Cerb's hair out, didn't I?"

Brock couldn't stop snickering. "Definitely I think Cerb planned that … payback of sorts. You're even now."

"Woof!" _Yep … you're getting better at understanding Dog._ "Bark, yip, ruff!" _Come play ball more, or you're next, Brock._ Cerb nudged Brock's hand which held his favorite tennis ball.

Standing, Brock said, "I better go play with him more, or I'm in for the same fate.

Before Cerb trotted after Brock, Clay said, "Thanks for finding me, boy. Sorry about the hair. Love ya, brother."

"Woof, bark, ruff!" _No worries. Love you too, brother._ Cerb took off like a missile … a hair missile … as the ball arched high in the sky with a trajectory of going into the water.

* * *

 _ **The Bulkhead Bar**_

Laughter filled the table as Bravo plus Lisa and Katie joked and drank beer. Jason stood. "Next round is on me."

"Don't forget, the kid is switching to near beer. One real beer is his limit," Trent stated, not wanting Clay to drink much yet.

"Perhaps a virgin daiquiri," Sonny teased recalling the first time they met Katie in the hangar in Australia when Clay and she would pretend to be newlyweds.

Katie leaned on Clay and shut the razzing down. "Nothing virgin about my ex-husband. He's more man than any of you ever will be … and he's still young and virile."

Clay pinked up but laughed. Katie was unpredictable, but a hoot and she fit right in with the group. He stood, needing to use the restroom and quipped, "On my way back I'll be sure to get Sonny a Shirley Temple."

Non-phased Sonny shot back, "Make sure they put the cherry on top. I'll give it to Lisa, and she can pop my cherry." He grinned at Lisa and received a punch in the arm. "Damn, the flies are bad in here, Davis."

Lisa glowered at Sonny, but couldn't help the lift of the corners of her mouth. The man had no censors sometimes. She was only glad Eric and Mandy had not been able to make tonight too. She didn't worry about the men of Bravo if they found out, but Blackburn was another story … and Mandy, well, she wouldn't understand getting so close to the boys … or in this case, one of the guys.

In a dim corner, a man watched the group. He had a bone to pick with them, and tonight it would be payback time. They turned his life upside down for months, but he utilized his vast resources and neutralized the damage, well, most of it, he would not be prosecuted, though he remained persona non grata. And they had the nerve to turn his namby-pamby son against him too … something he never expected … but he would nail each of them for the offense.

Clay exited the restroom, as fun as today had been his stamina still was not back to full strength, and he could use a nap … actually nodded off on the drive here. Damned good thing Katie drove. It was one reason Trent set his limit to one alcoholic beverage.

When Trent asked him how he was doing after the day in the sun, he spoke the truth. He never lied to their medic about his physical condition … now. Trent kept him alive and being honest with him was in his best interest. And hell, he liked having older brothers who watched out for him, even though most of the time he had no problem handling things on his own.

Clay's mind shifted as he caught Katie's laugh. He would miss Nurse Katie but was happy she came to visit. At some point, he would need to return the gesture and go down under again to visit her. The thought of meeting her biological family, who unlike his parents, nurtured her, intrigued him.

Lost in his thoughts, on the way to the bar to order Sonny's Shirley Temple, Clay accidentally bumped into a man as he passed between pool tables. "Sorry."

"Watch where you're going numb-nuts!" Nelson shoved his target hard making him take two steps back and into Barry. He was all too happy to teach a pretentious Navy SEAL a lesson. They believed they were badass, but he would snap most of them in two with little effort.

Clay raised his hands to his waist, palms out. "Not looking for a fight. I apologized." He took a step to the left to go around the beefy man … who appeared to be five inches taller and muscle-bound like a bodybuilder. In his current less-than-prime condition, he would need to protect his back, and though the grafts were healing well, he didn't want to risk a setback.

He nimbly ducked, narrowly avoiding the strike thrown at his head. The punch hit the guy next to him. Clay moved, wanting to vacate the area before it turned into a brawl as the man balled up his fists and brought up his arms, ready to retaliate.

Barry played his part, taking a swing at his friend Nelson, knowing their seven buddies would ensure this turned into a regular mix-up, with their first target to be Clay Spenser and the secondary ones all of his teammates. The nameless man, who paid them extremely well, wanted them all bloodied in a good old fashioned beatdown.

Clay's arms were seized from behind on both sides. "What the fuck?" A fist rammed into his nose, causing nociceptive pain to radiate across his entire face as blood dribbled out and he was pulled backward until his back slammed into a natty light fixture, shattering the glass. Clay jerked out of their clutches as a glass shard sliced his back, which pissed him off.

In the next instant, Katie and Lisa stood in front of him in a protective gesture as the rest of Bravo, plus Derek, John, and Nick of Alpha, Dominic from Delta, Beau Fuller of Charlie, and even Big Chief engaged in a knock-down-drag-out bar brawl against nine non-regulars.

Though it seemed longer, the fight concluded within two minutes as everyone who came to cover his six except Katie, Lisa, and Trent grabbed the necks of one of the attackers and twisted their arms high behind their backs to frog-march the unwelcome non-Navy Neanderthals out of the Bulkhead bar. Whoever they were, they didn't belong, and the owner, an ex-SEAL himself, would side with the SEALs if the police showed up.

As things quieted, Katie handed Clay several napkins to stem the flow from his nose as Trent asked, "Your back alright?"

"No. But I don't want you to check it here … follow me home, please." Clay's nasally voice said as he squeezed his nose and tipped his head back.

"Who were those nitwits?" Katie asked.

Lisa shrugged. "Never seen them around here before. Doubt we ever will again … they learned not to mess with SEALs. We watch each other's backs." She grinned at Clay. "You see Fuller land that solid blow on the guy who rammed you into the wall?"

"Nope … my beautiful guardians blocked my view." Clay lowered his head as the team reentered the bar and headed straight for him. He noted the worried and furious expressions.

Jason turned his gaze to Trent. "He okay?"

"Not checking him here … time for the kid to head home. I'll go with him."

Sonny sighed. "Can't take you anywhere, Goldilocks. Jace, you should've let me neuter those nutbags."

"Tempting, but assault would be a career limiting option." Jason surveyed the damage to Clay. "I'm coming to your place too."

Clay started to protest but realized Jason would nullify any objection, so only nodded and caught the expressions on the others. "Guess the party is moving to my place."

"Yee-haw. Me, Lisa, and Brock will swing by the liquor store," Sonny offered.

Realizing the kid wouldn't want an audience while Trent examined him, Ray suggested, "Jace, you and I will take care of the tab here and stop to grab some snacks on the way over."

Jason nodded.

Clay turned to Katie. "Gonna go wash up. Back in a moment."

"I gotta run home for my kit. I should keep it in the car from now on. Never know when I'll need it. I'll meet you at your apartment in about ten minutes." Trent turned and jogged out of the bar.

Brock, Sonny, and Lisa left next, while Jason and Ray went to pay the tab and find out if they owed for any damages. They would follow Clay out and make sure Katie was the one driving.

As Clay went to the restroom, Ash Spenser slipped out the door. This didn't go the way he planned. He paid good money for those muscle-bound idiots to hammer home the fact to his son that he would never outshine him … but they failed. He would need to take things into his own hands and prove once and for all to his son he would never be as good as him … never.

* * *

 _ **Outside the Bulkhead Bar**_

Clay's pace was slow as he and Katie ambled across the full lot to his car which they had to park in the farthest corner. The nap he wanted earlier, he needed now for sure and wondered if he would be nodding off on the way home or if he was becoming narcoleptic.

Although his back ached, Clay believed no substantial damage had been done … thanks to his brothers intervening. As he washed his hands before leaving the restroom, he peered at his nose and didn't think it was broken. And luckily the bleeding stopped, but it would probably swell a bit and might leave him with raccoon eyes in the next day or so … he hoped not.

Almost to his Mustang, Clay was halted by a voice he wished never to encounter again … his narcissistic father.

"Clay!" Ash shouted as he balled up his fist behind his son.

Turning to face Ashhole, a punch blindsided Clay causing him to stumble into Katie. His nose began bleeding again as he regained his footing and gaped nonplused at his nightmarish old man.

"Time to teach you who is the better man!" Ash swung again …

.

 _... To be continued in AI-O_

* * *

 **AN:** Evil muse is at it again ... leaving this on a cliffy. I have the general plot outline for AI-O and AI-P which will follow Clay through this encounter with his father, through rehab, and his first parachute jump (including finding out if something nefarious was afoot with his previous chute). AI-O will start with what happens in the Bulkhead bar parking lot.

Hope you enjoyed this extra-long, mostly emotional whump installment. I figured each of the guys would be affected in some way after the events in Nepal and their follow-on mission ... and each, Clay especially, deserved some good old fashioned nurturing. Drop me a review and let me know what you thought ... I enjoy reading them.


	15. Outshining the Obsolete

**Outshining the Obsolete**

* * *

 _ **Outside the Bulkhead Bar**_

Katie stayed close to Clay, matching his slow pace across the full lot to his car in the far corner. It had been the only open spot when they arrived. Tonight had been fun right up until those nine over-muscled, steroid-popping idiots picked a fight with Clay.

She noted the line of blood on the back of his lightweight shirt and hoped the glass from the shattered lamp didn't cause a deep laceration, though if it had, she believed Clay would've allowed Trent to tend him in the bar. She was glad Clay's mates intervened when they did, or his skin grafts could've been damaged. He was on the mend and doing well, but it was still too early for him to be getting into any minor physical altercations let alone a knock-down-drag-out bar brawl.

Wishing she didn't have to leave tomorrow her thoughts were interrupted as an unknown man yelled Clay's name as they approached the Mustang. The sucker punch shocked both her and Clay as her friend stumbled to into her and his nose began bleeding again.

"Time to teach you who is the better man!" Ash swung again.

Katie reacted … training coming into play without conscious thought. She blocked the hit heading for Clay and struck out with her own. Pain shot through her hand as she connected with the attacker's cheek, but she ignored it and followed up with a scoop kick to the man's groin, sending him to his knees and his hands to his nuts to cover himself, making it impossible for him to attempt another strike on Clay.

Everything happened so fast Clay only stared as his father's knees hit the asphalt, cupping himself after Katie kicked Ash in the balls. He couldn't stop the chuckle which emitted, the whole scene surreal to him. Ashhole dared to assault him again. Did Ash possess a death wish? Ash had to realize Bravo would never allow him to pull this shit without repercussions.

Ready to defend Clay again, Katie flicked an eye at a laughing Clay. "Do you know this wanker?"

"Yeah, this is Ashhole … my father."

Katie's eyes rounded. "Your oldie?"

"Unfortunate side effect of birth … yeah." Clay got ahold of his laughter and turned a glare on Ash. "What the hell do you think you are doing? I told you I don't want anything to do with you. Period! You're lucky, my brothers didn't witness your assault, or you would be a bloody pulp, not just holding your balls."

Growling, due to both pain and anger, Ash straightened up and rose. "Need a girl to fight your battles. You will never measure up to my standards. Not sure why I ever worried about it."

"Might need my wife to fight for me at the moment … but keep in mind … a woman just chopped you off at the knees."

Katie noted the gleam of rage flashing in the elder Spenser's eyes, but she glimpsed reinforcements exiting the bar, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She never doubted Clay could hold his own against this man, but he was in no condition to fight. And her hand throbbed, she might've broken a knuckle … or two. _Koala's not gonna be pleased with me. I know better than to go for hard bones, should've gone for the solar plexus._

"WIFE?! When the hell did you get married?" Ash shouted as the four-letter word sunk in. The last he knew Stella dumped Clay, and he was moping around like a pussy-whipped little boy who lost his favorite toy.

Too exhausted to even care about his father anymore, as Clay turned away, he said, "You lost the right to know anything about me when you tried to ruin my career."

Quick as lightning, still possessing the skills he utilized as a SEAL, Ash reached out and grabbed the back of Clay's shirt, intending to pull him back, and pivot him … his obstinate and obnoxious son would provide him the answer he demanded.

Fabric tearing filled the air, and Ash was presented with a back covered in bandages and some blood. For one split second, an ounce of concern for his child snuck in, and he breathed out, "What happened?"

Fury lit Clay's eyes as he faced his odious father. He liked this shirt, and now it was ruined … just like everything Ash ever touched. "Lay a hand on me again, and it will be the last thing you ever do."

The fleeting concern was replaced with opportunistic strategy. Banking his rage behind a mask, Ash used a honeyed tone, "Son, I'm sorry." He raked a hand through his hair, searching for words to manipulate. "I'm terrible at this father thing … I know, but I try. You're hurt." Then Ash lied, "I care about you," and he added his tag line attempting to gather intel, "Did this happen on a mission? Perhaps in Australia … your wife's got a pretty accent."

Recognizing the snake oil, Clay didn't bother to answer Ash. He reached for Katie's hand. "Let's go." Katie's hiss had Clay peering down at her hand. Anger welled again. She had been hurt defending him from Ash.

Though he shouldn't, blind fury made Clay strike out at his dad. He caught Ash off-guard, swept Ash's legs out from underneath him, taking the bastard to the ground. Out-of-control Clay straddled Ash a micro-second later and pummeled his face as he yelled, "Leave me the fuck alone. I'm sick of you ruining everything in my life. You hurt everyone …"

Three sets of hands overpowered Clay, dragging him off Ash. He stood panting, his fists clenched as he glared at Ash.

"Whoa, calm down, brother," Ray spoke trying to breakthrough Clay's haze of fury.

"Stay back! Don't even think about retaliation or you'll be dealing with more than a few bruises," Jason barked at Ash as Clay's father rose and tried to come at Clay, the outrage as clear in Ash's expression as the blood flowing from his nose and split lip.

Sanity started to return as Spenser glowered at Spenser, neither one willing to break the gaze. Clay spat out, "Wish I was an orphan." He pivoted on his heel and took the five steps necessary to reach his car. He wanted to sag on the trunk but refused to display weakness in front of Ash.

Katie hurried to open the passenger door, and her hand was rebuffed by Clay as he insisted on getting in without help, though he definitely could use it.

Jason and Ray maintained a wall between Spensers.

Wiping the blood on his sleeve, Ash said, "I'll be pressing assault charges. Clay's finished as a SEAL."

In his calm tone, Ray said, "Appeared to be self-defense to me."

"He attacked me. I'm the one who was on the ground," Ash retorted.

Jason arched a brow. "Hmmm, so the great Ash Spenser is bested by a mere woman and a grievously injured man. Wonder how many books you will sell if that story comes out?"

After closing the door, and heading for the driver's side, Katie stopped next to Jason. "For the record, this man sucker-punched Clay first. If anyone is to be accused of assault, it is this poor excuse for a man."

She roved her eye up and down Clay's oldie. "You are a bloody offensive parent. Glad Clay is nothing like you. And as far as teaching him who the better man is … it is a lesson you need to learn because we already know it's Clay. I suggest you leave before I call the police and file a complaint against you."

Understanding when it was time to retreat, Ash turned and stormed off. _This isn't over … not by a longshot. Clay will pay dearly for trying to overshadow me._

Once Ash vacated the area, Jason handed his keys to Ray and turned to Katie. He had not missed her now swelling hand. "Give me Clay's keys. I'll drive him home. You ride with Ray, and he'll take you to get your hand x-rayed by our team doc."

"Not necessary. A little ice and I'll be fine," Katie downplayed the injury, not wanting to leave Clay.

Ray chuckled. "We're too versed with the kid for your words to ring true. I swear you two are a matched pair. Let's go, Katie. Dr. Irving won't take long, and we'll be at Clay's by the time Trent is finished examining him."

Katie nodded and followed Ray to Jason's truck after relinquishing the keys.

Jason opened the driver's door and slid in. He expected to find blue orbs filled with a bit of concern for the dressing down he might mete out to the kid for his dumbass and hot-headed move which could've resulted in significant damage. Instead, he found Clay's head leaned on the window, and the light snore and regular breathing told him the kid had fallen asleep.

He let out a long sigh. _You, kid, are gonna turn me gray prematurely. Jesus, what the hell are we going to do about your asshole father?_ Jason gripped the steering wheel and squeezed until his knuckles turned white. "I would love to dump Ash in the middle of the ocean and let the sharks eat him. What the hell kind of father attacks his son, not once, but twice … hell, maybe more?"

Clay's soft, "An Ashhole father," startled Jason.

He released the wheel. "Thought you were sleeping."

"No … only trying to … hell, I don't know. Why?"

"Why what?" Jason turned and met sad and confused blue eyes.

"Why does he hate me so much? As a kid, I looked up to him. Even though he was never around, I built up in my head he was off saving the world from bad guys, and so it was okay he wasn't around. It was okay he left me with my grandparents. It was okay he abandoned my mom because others needed him."

Clay let out a ragged breath. "I wanted to be a Navy SEAL just like him."

Jason reached out a hand and laid it on Clay's thigh and patted. "Thankfully you are nothing like him. You are better. You are a damned fine SEAL, and one day you will lead a team of your own. Something Ash could never do. He didn't have what it takes to lead a team, and you do."

"Let's get you back to your place so you can crash on a comfy bed and Trent can take a look at the damage done." Jason turned on the car and put it in gear when Clay only nodded.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Clay said, "Thanks for not yelling at me for my out-of-control reaction."

Jason chuckled. "Oh, you're not off the hook by any means. Just waiting for the right time and place … which this is not. You'd probably nod off as I waxed poetic … and I want you to hear every last word I have on the subject of maintaining control and engaging your head before your fists."

Clay closed his eyes about midway through Jason's words, and he kept the smile from his face as he faked a snore, which produced more laughter from his team leader. Yeah, he would pay the price, but his brothers would always have his back. Two miles down the road, Clay drifted off to sleep for real. He did not see Jason's concerned expression nor hear the sigh or the call Jason placed to Blackburn to bring him up to speed on what occurred. Jason understood they might need to keep an eye on Ash Spenser.

* * *

 _ **Clay's Apartment**_

Trent covered Clay with a light blanket. The kid zonked out within five minutes of him arriving. Overtaxed by the events of the day, Clay never stirred once as he cleaned and dressed the cut caused by the lamp breaking as Clay was shoved into it at the bar. He exited the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

He grinned as he found Jason, Sonny, and Brock all in Clay's small living area. "This apartment isn't really big enough for all of us to visit him all at once."

Sonny removed the toothpick from his teeth and eyed Trent. "None of us plan on going anywhere until you tell us how Orcinus Orca fared."

Brock chuckled. "New name … I've lost count."

Sonny sat forward and clasped his hands, wanting to wring them around Ash Spenser's neck. "Hey, it fits. The kid is one badass killer whale. He took his shark of a father to the ground from what Jace said. No easy task in his condition … which reminds me, Trent … did he hurt himself?"

"He needs rest. Overdid it in the sun today, and tonight's events didn't help. But other than that, no damage to the grafts. His knuckles are a bit bruised, and the cut on his back was shallow … didn't require stitches. Nose isn't broken, but he'll likely have black eyes due to the broken capillaries beneath the skin leaking into the surrounding tissue." Trent went to Clay fridge and helped himself to an orange soda … he was done with alcohol tonight.

After he popped the top, he peered at Jason. "Ray call yet?"

Jason shook his head.

Standing to pace, Sonny did the short trip in the small space several times before he stopped and gazed at the others. "Don't it seem a bit opportunistic for Ash to be in the parking lot just as Clay is leaving?"

Chuckling again Brock teased, "Wow big word for you, Sonny. Do you even know what opportunistic means?"

"I may be a Texan, but I ain't stupid. Ashhole appearing right after all those ornery bulls with more brawn than brains tried to rough up Clay. Something stinks and it ain't my shoes."

Jason nodded. "Been thinking the same. Called Blackburn. Might call Mandy to do a little research into those nine guys. They're not from around here. The Bulkhead bar owner said they had never been in before, and none of them drank more than two beers, so they weren't drunk. Feels like a targeted attack."

"Well, shit. The kid don't need this crap on top of everything else. Just rehabbing is gonna be tough." Sonny blew out a breath and stuck his toothpick back in, chewing one end and wondering what the hell they would do about Ash going after Clay.

The guys lapsed into silence, each lost in his own thoughts as they waited for Ray to return with Katie. Time flew and before they knew it two hours had passed before Clay's front door opened.

Katie entered and smiled finding Clay's team all there. She held up her bandaged hand. "Not broken … which is good cause I would've gotten an earful from Koala. Bruised, just need to ice my hand, and it'll be fine."

Brock stood, vacating a spot on the couch. "Have a seat."

"Thanks." Katie lowered herself to the cushion and before she realized, she had a soda set by her, a couple of analgesics, one of the guys put a pillow under her hand and another laid an ice pack on top after covering her hand with a towel. Then they stood in a semi-circle around her. "What?"

Jason became the spokesperson. "Thanks for taking care of him. Sorry you were hurt. But time to tell us exactly what went down. Clay was too wiped out to say, and Ray and I came out and we don't know what happened to cause him to overreact and become so outraged he quit thinking before taking action."

Katie shook her head. "First up, I don't believe he overreacted … well, maybe a little, but his father is as foul as decomposing offal." She proceeded to explain the full exchange to them. By the time she finished five sets of eyes burned with outrage and she believed had Ash Spenser been in the room, the man would be dead … his body dumped in the ocean to become fish food.

She rose and said, "I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Feel free to stay or go. I'll ensure Clay is okay tonight, but after I leave, I believe one of you should stay with him."

"That'll be me," Sonny eyed the couch, not looking forward to sleeping on it … he would rather stay at his place or Lisa's, but he wouldn't abandon his brother.

"Been thinking on that too. Might be best if he didn't stay here if Ash is targeting him. We can discuss it tomorrow, but Clay will have to accept he is coming to live with one of us … at least until he is out of the woods and we get a handle on the Ash situation."

"Night," Katie said as she ambled towards the bedroom. This had not been quite the vacation she expected when she spontaneously bought the ticket ten days ago, but she was happy she came and helped Clay. Leaving him and flying back home tomorrow would be depressing. She was half-tempted to call Koala, tell him about her minor injury, and beg for a week off … but she wouldn't, her job was as important to her as Clay's was to him, and she worked her ass off to attain her position.

When the bedroom door closed, the group broke up with everyone except Sonny taking their leave. He went to the tiny closet, pulled out the extra pillows and a blanket then bedded down for the night on the couch. As he attempted to go to sleep, he developed numerous outrageous scenarios to rid the world of an Obsolete Ashhole.

* * *

 **Norfolk International Departures**

Clay exited the car along with Katie as Sonny remained in the driver's seat. They moved to the rear and Clay popped the trunk and pulled out Katie's luggage as she hoisted her pack on her shoulder. Stepping onto the sidewalk near the doors for departures Clay peered at Katie. "Sorry."

"For what?" Katie used her non-injured hand to tug up the handle on the rolling bag.

"Ruining your vacation."

"You. Did. Not. Ruin. Anything." She wrapped her arms around Clay's neck and moved her face close to his. Her voice came out intense, "You are going to continue to heal, and you will be back with your brothers kicking ass sooner than you think. And as far as your oldie is concerned, well, I think you lucked out by your grandparents raising you. If it helps, you can think of it as Ash doing one positive thing in your life."

She gingerly pressed her lips to his, careful not to bump his tender nose. Two hits last night left it swollen, and the bruising was rather colorful this morning. Leaning back, she smiled. "I enjoyed playing nurse."

"Doctor Katie can give me a complete physical any day." Clay grinned.

Katie chuckled. "Next opportunity … I'm all in." Becoming serious again she brushed her fingers down his cheek. "Stay true to who you are no matter what comes your way. If you ever need a friendly ear, call me."

Clay moved to kiss Katie again, and the car behind his honked, impatient with their slow goodbye, but he ignored them. Savoring the last kiss, Clay reluctantly parted. "Thanks for everything. The same is true … call me if you ever need to talk."

"Will do." Katie stepped back, grasped her luggage and unenthusiastically headed into the terminal. She didn't look back, though she wanted to.

Wrapped up in their goodbye, neither Clay nor Katie noticed the man two cars behind taking photos of them.

Once Katie was out of view, Clay returned to the passenger seat and closed the door. As Sonny pulled out from the curb, Clay said, "Appreciate you driving."

"Anytime, Loverboy. Too bad the wifey had to leave."

"Yeah."

Sonny changed lanes and yawned. He didn't sleep much last night thinking of ways to get payback for Clay. "Do you think Ashhole really thinks you and Katie are married?"

Clay chuckled. "Uh, yeah. Called her my wife … that got his goat." He exhaled heavily. "Think Jace is gonna lay into me?"

"Oh, hell yeah! If he could, Boss would undoubtedly turn you over his knee and tan your lily-white hide with a paddle. He'll probably settle for blistering your ears for now, and making you run the hills once you're up to it." Sonny flashed a Texas-sized grin at Clay as the kid grimaced. "Speaking of which, guess where we're headed now?"

"No. No."

"Oh yes, little buddy. We got some serious talking to do."

"Not up to it. Need a nap …"

"Don't turn into an ostrich and try burying your head in the sand. Jace won't buy your excuse for one damned moment." Sonny couldn't help the laugh emitting from him as Clay sunk lower in the seat as if he were a child and facing a trip to the principal's office.

Clay sighed and tried to order his mind to prepare for the lecture not only Jason, but the rest of his team was likely to heap on him today. Jumping Ash had been monumentally stupid. He could've ruined his career. He was so out of control last night that if Jason and Ray had not pulled him off Ash, he might've beaten his own father to death.

Not something he was proud of, and not anything Jason would want from a member of his team. He was top tier operator, which meant he must be able to maintain control in even the most chaotic and stressful situations, and yesterday he showed them all he could be unreliable and susceptible to manipulation. Yeah, there will be hell to pay, Clay just didn't know what it would entail. But he would endure whatever punishment Jason meted out and try to regain their trust and prove this was a one-off incident.

The team was everything to him … his only focus now. He recalled Jason's words in the car as he drove him home. Clay decided his new goal would be to put everything he had into becoming the best-damned SEAL he could become, and learning everything he could from Jason and Ray about leading a team. He would not be overshadowed by a father who didn't give a damn about him.

* * *

 _ **Oceanside Motel**_

The knock on his motel room door pulled Ash from the bathroom where he probed his bruised and swollen nose. Anger grew in the pit of his stomach the last two days. His son would pay … he would seek revenge against what the brat held most dear. After checking the peephole, he opened the door. "Come in, quick." He shut it fast and turned to the middle-aged woman with platinum blonde hair and light blue eyes standing near the small table. "Anyone follow you?"

"Pfft." Oliva rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't be any good if they had. What made you call me after all these years?"

Ash moved to his chair and waved her into the other seat. "Calling in the favor you owe me."

Oliva eyed Ash. Once, long ago, she found this man attractive and would've possibly given up her career if he had stayed committed to her, but he didn't, so she didn't. She never expected to hear from him again, let alone call in his chit. "What do you want?"

He opened the folder and slid a page with several snapshots printed on it to her. "I need to know this woman's name and how she trapped my son into marriage."

"Trapped?" Oliva viewed the pictures of a man and woman at an airport, a couple kissing, and then face-shots of the woman. "He doesn't look like he thinks he is trapped."

"She wasn't in his life until recently. Last I knew, my son was dating someone else … who dumped him."

"So you think she took advantage and roped him into a marriage on the rebound. Why do you care? If I recall, you wanted nothing to do with your son. You declared he was an anchor and you should've dropped him in the ocean as a baby."

"I was drunk and going through a divorce at the time. I said things I didn't mean. Trying to reconcile with my boy now, but he is shutting me out. I think this woman is the cause. Can you find out who she is for me or not?"

"Any details you can provide?" Oliva's gut churned a bit. Ash had never cared one whit about his child. This sudden turn didn't sit well, but she did owe him for saving her life when he rescued her from a rebel faction who kidnapped her in Malaysia years ago.

"I don't know where or when they married. Only that she speaks with an Australian accent, and she was on a flight to Perth yesterday." Ash tapped the photographs. "Which is when I took these."

"Alright. I'll see what I can find out. But we'll be even afterward." Oliva closed the file, covering the images, and pulled it to her as she rose.

"I need the info as fast as possible." Ash stood also.

Oliva turned for the door but halted and pivoted to face him. "Your son is a grown man, and I'm sure capable of dealing with this situation by himself. Why do you want to know so badly?"

Ash lied, "I care about my son and don't want some bimbo to take advantage of him. I wasn't there for him when he grew up, and I want to make it up to Clay. Something tells me she is bad news and I want to protect him."

"I'll do what I can and call you as soon as I have a name or other details." Oliva exited.

Ash closed the door and winced as his grin reopened his split lip. _There is more than one way to destroy a man … Clay will be devastated when the bitch who dared kick me in the balls is dead_.

* * *

 _ **Three Weeks Later - Jason's Home**_

Clay finished washing the dinner dishes and set the last plate in the drainer to drip dry for a bit along with the others. He dried his hands on the towel then turned and leaned against the cabinetry as he scanned the now empty kitchen. Emma and Mikey were upstairs doing homework, so Clay let out a long sigh.

The past twenty-one days had been odd. It started with an exceedingly long and loud lecture from every member of his team … his brothers gave him what for as expected. Though unpleasant, in truth, not that he would ever tell them, their diatribes warmed his heart. They cared about him … truly cared. They did not speak false oily words like Ash … everything out of their mouths was sincere.

Clay accepted the invitation to stay at Jason's home, not that he had any real choice in the matter. He was not allowed to go anywhere alone, sort of like house arrest, not the store, the doctors, the base gym, Jason's backyard … hell, almost even the bathroom for the first couple of days.

Even if he wanted to defy their dictates, which in some ways his cocky independence wanted to do, he would've been unsuccessful. And also, if he were honest, another part of him, the vulnerable inner child, glommed onto their over-protectiveness of him in the last three weeks.

For the first few nights, he bunked in Mikey's room, until Trent asked him about the dark circles growing under his eyes. Jason laughed heartily when Clay admitted Mikey snored like a freight train and kept waking him up. After that, he slept on the couch, which was actually fairly comfortable.

Pitching in around the house to earn his keep, cooking, and cleaning, he raised a few eyebrows on the team when they discovered he could cook more than just frozen pizza. A skill his grandmother taught him which he didn't put to much use before now, won over Mrs. Hayes.

At first, Jason's mother was not pleased to find out Jason insisted he stay here … she worried about Emma. Which pissed Clay off, because _what the fuck_ … Emma was too young and off limits … she was family. Why the woman ever thought he might try something with Jason's daughter … well, that bugged the shit out of him for a little while.

After the first week, Linda changed her mind and apologized to him. They were cool now, and she told him she appreciated his help, especially when he made nutritious meals for the kids … something out of Jason's skill set. Emma also welcomed the break. She got to be more of a kid rather than the mom of the house for the past few weeks. So, all in all, living at Jason's home had been more pleasant than punishment … not that reprimanding him is what drove Jason and the others to insist he stay here.

No, he understood the real motivation. No one knew what Ash was capable of doing, but everyone agreed his father crossed the line and Mandy discovered that the men in the bar had been paid to pick a fight with him and Bravo. And although none of the nine could identify Ash as the man who paid them, every member of Bravo, including himself believed Ash to be behind the attack.

Clay let out another sigh, grabbed the dish towel and began drying plates. "My father hates me."

"Why?" Mikey asked.

Realizing he spoke out loud, Clay turned to face Jason's son. He didn't lie or try to deflect, Mikey had overheard a few of his conversations with the guys about Ash. "I don't know."

Mikey pulled the orange juice carton from the fridge, and as he went to get a cup, he said, "Dads are supposed to support their kids and wish they do better than them … at least that's what Mom used to say."

"Yeah, they are … but not everyone is cut out for being a dad."

Stopping midway in pouring his juice, Mikey stared at Clay. "Sorry you didn't get a good dad like Emma and me."

Clay chuckled. "In a way I did. He's my team leader."

Mikey grinned. "Yeah, I guess so. Want some OJ?"

"Nah. Need any help with homework?" Clay started on wiping down the utensils and putting them in the drawer.

"Nope. Thanks though." Mikey chugged down half the glass. He liked having Clay here … it was like having an older brother. He wondered if his mom had been alive if Dad would've brought Clay to live with them. Probably not. Clay would've stayed with Sonny or maybe Trent or Brock, but Mom wouldn't have let him stay.

"Can we go to the store and grab some ice cream? Emma finished off the carton last night." Mikey put the juice back in the fridge.

Clay considered the request, he was in better shape now, cleared to drive, but had yet to be allowed to leave the house without one of the team. But Jason and the guys left in a hurry when their phones all buzzed at the end of dinner. They were likely being spun up for some mission and might be gone for, well, an undeterminable amount of time.

He wished he could go too, but had not been cleared for field work yet, though he was now working out and training with the team again. Ash had been non-existent for the last three weeks, and Clay could handle himself if need be, so figured a quick trip to the mini-mart close to Jason's home with Mikey would be fine. _What can possibly happen during a quick outing to the mini-mart?_

"Yeah, I don't see why not. Finish your homework, and I'll finish cleaning up, then we'll go."

"Cool." Mikey took his glass with him and headed back to his room to complete his assignment.

* * *

 _ **Oscar's Mini-mart**_

Clay brought his car to a stop and turned it off. He glanced at Mikey and grinned. Jason is one lucky man … he has two awesome kids. "Okay, you go grab the ice cream you want, and I'll meet you at the registers once I get the items we need for omelets in the morning."

"Okay." Mikey hopped out. He loved riding in the Mustang.

As Jason's son went one direction, Clay went another to pick up the few items they needed and wanted. He reached the dairy section, and selected one percent milk … a compromise between what Emma and Mikey liked. He snagged a carton of eggs and turned to find a bag of shredded cheese, as gunfire erupted.

Milk and eggs forgotten, dropped on the floor, Clay sprinted to the frozen food section with two thoughts in mind.

 _I must protect Mikey … and … Jason's gonna kill me for leaving the house alone._

* * *

 _ **Base TOC**_

Jason stared at Blackburn in a pissing contest he intended to win. "He's coming."

"He isn't cleared." Eric glared right back.

"Clear him!"

"Not up to me. And you know full well he's not ready for field work. He will stay here whether you like it or not."

The rest of the team, Mandy, and Lisa observed the two men go toe-to-toe. When Jason wanted something, he was like a dog with his teeth in a t-bone steak. He wouldn't let go until Blackburn pulled the rank card, and even then, it would be after much ado and many attempts to change the lieutenant commander's mind.

"Not leaving him here."

"He's not coming, and that is final!" Eric raked a hand through his hair. Jason had been relentless in the last ten minutes.

Jason played his ace-in-the-hole. "You cleared him to go to Ecuador, and he was in worse physical shape. He kept tipping over, and his ears rang. He may not be one-hundred-percent at the moment, but Spenser's a damned-sight better than when you insisted we needed him for his language skills."

"And look what happened. I nearly got him killed. Not going to do that again." Eric still held a sense of guilt for taking Clay to Ecuador and allowing Carlson to get his hand on the kid and torture him.

"This concerns Clay, and quite frankly, he is safer with us than left on his own with Ash who knows where planning to do who knows what. He can stay in ops … no field work." Jason's eyes bore into Eric's.

Sonny smirked and nudged Lisa as he said under his breath, "You're gonna be babysittin' the kiddo. He might be a handful, so get ready to distract him with toys."

Lisa rolled her eyes, and retorted, "Clay's easier to distract than you … and more helpful in ops."

On Davis' other side, Trent chuckled overhearing the exchange. He was in two minds about Jason's desire for Clay to come with them. Clay was not ready to be in the field, although he made great strides in his physical readiness, but he also agreed with Jason, Clay would be safer with them.

"Well?" Jason prodded.

Eric caved, but only because Jason made a valid point. Ash Spenser was a wildcard blowing in the wind … and this mission might be related and was in a safer location than South America. "Okay. Wheels up in three hours. Make it clear to Spenser he is on the sidelines … he will only be allowed to assist in TOC."

Jason pivoted. "Sonny, Trent, with me, we'll grab Clay from my house and then return."

Both men rose and followed Jason out of the room.

Mandy moved in on Eric. "I think it is a bad idea to bring Spenser."

Eric blew out a breath and strode from the room without acknowledging Mandy's comment. He needed Dr. Irving to sign off on Spenser going with them, and he would ensure the doctor accompanied Bravo this time.

* * *

 _ **Oscar's Mini-mart**_

Clay's mind snapped into mission mode upon hearing the shots. Although he sprinted to the frozen food section, he halted at the endcap and cautiously peered around the corner, because the last thing he wanted to do was run pell-mell into trouble … that wouldn't reflect well on his training nor protect Mikey.

What he observed seized his lungs. Mikey sat on the ground behind a display of ice cream cones and red covered his leg. Clay's heart leapt to his throat for a split second but resettled into place and he drew in a breath as his mind registered the red was cherry syrup from the broken bottle on the floor beside Mikey.

He moved forward fast, crouching behind the display and giving Mikey a reassuring smile as he whispered, "Are you hurt?"

Mikey shook his head, and his voice tremored as he said, "The gunfire startled me, and I dropped the cherries. I hid … instead of running for you … Dad said it is safer to stay put and hide."

"He's right." Clay scanned the area. If the gunman or men decided to come down this aisle, they would be found in short order. One side contained the enclosed glass freezers, but luckily the opposite side was for dry goods … snack items and soda. Directly across from them were cases of soda.

"Stay here." Clay moved to the shelving unit and began taking out cases from the bottom shelf. He created a space just big enough to hide Mikey. Motioning to Jason's son to join him, he had Mikey crawl in and then stacked the soda cases in front of the kid.

"Do you have your phone?"

"No. Forgot it at home."

"Okay. You stay hidden. Don't come out until I come for you, got that? Don't leave here for anyone but me." Clay eyed Mikey as he held the last case he would put in place to conceal him.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a look. You're gonna stay here, or your dad will kill me. And if that happens, you'll lose your favorite video game partner." Clay grinned hoping his light jest would ease the kid's fear.

"K." Mikey tried to return the smile but was scared.

Clay slid the final case in place, relieved Mikey would be safe from harm. He could hear yelling up front, but fortunately, no other shots had been fired since the initial burst. With any luck, this would be a simple robbery, and the criminals would be gone or captured by police quickly.

With no weapon, Clay moved to the front of the aisle noiselessly, glad his sneakers didn't squeak on the flooring. This aisle was close to the registers, and he halted at the end, took a breath, and peeked around the corner. He didn't like what he viewed.

One man lay on the floor, blood pooled under him from a gunshot in the abdomen. His face appeared grayish, and by the amount of liquid around him, Clay feared the guy might not make it if help didn't arrive soon. The cashier appeared overanxious and her movements jerky as she tried and failed to open the till as a frantic assailant waved a gun at her and yelled to hurry up, or he would shoot her too.

Clay realized he needed to act to prevent the erratic robber from killing the overly-frightened woman. Reaching for an oblong can of tea, the only weapon he could find, he moved forward, needing to get closer. He considered lobbing the projectile at the robber's head, but that might kill him and was a whole mess of potential legal trouble Clay wanted to avoid.

He also considered aiming at the hand holding the pistol, but the guy's finger was curled around the trigger, which screamed amateur to Clay because unless you were actively firing the finger should be straight. Needing to disarm him without causing the man to discharge the gun again accidentally, Clay launched the can at the wall of an unoccupied corner, to draw the man's attention away from the freaking-out cashier.

As the aluminum can hit its mark and exploded, Clay rushed forward intending on taking down the startled robber. Unfortunately, the armed robber turned at the last moment, and Clay spied blown out pupils … dilated so much the green iris appeared to almost be gone. His field medical training told him the person was likely wasted on crack, opiates, meth or any number of other drugs.

He didn't have time to think further as the gun came around towards him and fired. His body rammed into the addict, and they went down hard. The Glock knocked free of the robber's hand and skidded across the floor upon impact. Clay overestimated his ability to subdue the man … meeting greater resistance than anticipated.

The drugged-out man overpowered him, and he ended up flipped on his back like an otter rather than straddling his target. Two powerful strikes to his face caused his world to spin off-kilter but also pissed Clay off, and he redoubled his effort as he bucked and rolled them over. Fighting for dominance, Clay made it to his knees at the same time as the junkie.

In the background, sirens sounded as the clerk shrieked, but Clay obliterated all distractions, as he rose to his feet, focused solely on the combatant who fought like an octopus and now clutched a knife. How the man obtained it and from where Clay couldn't fathom, but that was not the most pressing issue, disarming him became the number one priority … again. As the blade made a jab at him, Clay managed to seize the wrist holding the wicked serrated knife and push it down, keeping it from embedding in his abdomen.

Five cops rushed in and found two men wrestling for control of a knife. Neither responded to their demands to stop and put down the weapon. The overwrought woman behind the counter was of no use in sorting out who was the criminal, so wanting a non-lethal ending to the melee, the cops tasered both men.

Clay's body jerked as the voltage rocketed through him. His muscles contracted, then spasmed, and he twitched as he slammed to the ground. Roughly turned to his stomach, his arms yanked behind him he was cuffed before he knew what occurred. Residual tremors coursed through his body as awareness of his new situation filtered in. Blinking, trying to focus on the blur of activity around him, Clay mumbled, "Mikey."

Taking control of the scene, Sergeant James Fox entered Oscar's mini-mart with six of his officers. He noted where one man lay subdued by the taser, while the other continued to fight against five patrolmen trying to take him down. Jim hated dealing with PCP addicts, meth-heads, and those taking flakka. They needed to get the assailant under control so they could bring in EMS for the man bleeding out from a GSW to the gut and the woman who just passed out behind the counter.

Fox started forward, but his eyes went back to the cuffed blond man lying still on the floor. Recognition lit his eyes. "Oh shit." He changed direction as he called out to one of his men, "I need a set of keys. Uncuff this man now."

"Sarge, we don't know who shot the victim. Better he stays restrained until we sort things out," Ortiz said as he moved to his SWAT sergeant.

"Get them off him now!" Fox knelt. "Clay, you okay?"

"Mikey?" Clay breathed out as his eyes focused on a familiar face.

"No, Jim … Jim Fox, do you remember me? Farris Gallery."

Clay nodded. "Mikey … need to get Mikey … scared."

Unsure what Clay meant, Jim helped the young SEAL who heroically risked his life in Farris Gallery to disarm several explosives to sit after Ortiz begrudgingly unlocked the cuffs.

Clay pushed to his feet, unsteady as aftershocks ran through him again. His head swam, and he touched his eye where the out of control druggie socked him. He winced as he connected with a tender spot, but made eye contact with the officer. "Gotta get Mikey … my team leader's son."

"You don't look so hot. Stay here, and my officer will bring him. Where is he?"

Wobbling, trying to orient himself, his muscles not cooperating refusing to listen to his command to take a step, Clay said, "Ice cream aisle … told him to stay put."

"Ortiz, find the boy. Take him out the back way, so he isn't exposed to this," Jim waved towards the still shouting, but now restrained perp and the possibly dying man EMTs were now starting to work on.

His legs giving out, Clay sank to the ground around as the sergeant gripped his arm and guided him down. "Your tasers pack a punch," Clay groused, angry he was not on his feet and going for Mikey himself.

* * *

 _ **En Route to Jason's Home**_

"Jace!" Sonny exclaimed as they slowly approached the intersection of Oscar's mini-mart. The parking lot was cordoned off by crime scene tape with multiple police vehicles and two EMS rigs. But what caught Sonny's eyes was an all too familiar Mustang.

"What?" Jason asked, slowing further as the officer who was directing traffic put up a hand indicating he should stop, then waved the cross traffic on.

"Trouble magnet … is … over there." Sonny pointed across the street. "Clay's Mustang."

"Shit … what is he doing there? He knows he isn't supposed to leave the house without us."

Trent became the voice of reason, "Maybe the kids needed something … and he isn't on house arrest." He met Jason's glare in the rearview mirror, and added, "Anymore. Can't keep him locked up tight much longer … he's a grown man, Jace."

"I know … just not expecting …. this." Jason inched forward when the officer changed the flow of traffic and pulled into the lot across from Oscar's. After he parked all three hopped out and headed for the mini-mart.

* * *

 _ **Oscar's Mini-mart**_

"Sarge, I couldn't find a boy in the frozen food aisle. I checked every aisle." Ortiz strode towards the men.

Clay pushed up again, his muscles aching but more cooperative this time. "Kid is doing what I told him … waiting for me." He took one step before his eyes turned to the door as the beep indicated it opened again. Clay swallowed hard. "Shit."

"Clay!" Jason thundered into the room having gotten permission … well, sort of … more like Trent and Sonny distracted the officer outside as he did an end run to enter.

"Jas—"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jason interrupted, and within four strides, he was at the kid's side, gripping his arm, holding him steady.

"J—"

"You're supposed to be at home," Jason cut him off again.

Realizing he wouldn't get a word in edgewise, and his concern for Mikey paramount, Clay ignored Jason and pulled out of his grip.

Jason blinked, then grabbed Clay shoulder, spinning him around. "No, you don't. You're staying here and giving me an explanation!"

Jerking out of Jason grip, Clay said, "Mikey …"

His eyes blowing wide open with fear, his son's name left his lips with the last of his air as he felt sucker punched, "Mikey?"

Hating the terror on his team leader's face, Clay said, "He's okay, only staying put until I come get him." Clay took several unsteady steps.

Jason fell in step with Clay, ready to support him if he started to go down. He didn't realize two officers followed them until one said, "I didn't find any boy back here."

Clay stopped and knelt, his hands shaking as he moved a soda case. "Hey, Mikey. Everything is alright now. Look who I brought."

Mikey's eyes met his dad's.

Jason ripped away the remaining cases, Mikey crawled out, and Jason embraced his son as he sat on the floor.

"I was so scared, Dad. Uncle Clay told me to stay hidden, and I did what he said." Mikey teared up, the stress of hiding and hearing the yelling and the other gunshot causing him to tremble.

Jim turned to Ortiz, "Escort an EMT here. I want them to check the boy."

Clay shifted to his butt and leaned against the shelves, exhausted, his adrenaline crash taking everything from him. He sighed and closed his eyes. If they arrived only a few minutes earlier, they would've been at the register when the maniac came in, and Mikey might've been hurt … and more traumatized than he was if he witnessed the male customer get shot.

"Uncle Clay?" Mikey's tentative voice said as he let go of his father's neck and turned to the man who protected him.

Opening his eyelids, Clay peered at Mikey. "Yeah, kiddo?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"You weren't shot? I heard the gun go off again … and …" Mikey's eyes widened.

"Nope."

"Then why is there blood on you?"

"Huh?"

"On your side and leg." Mikey pointed to Clay causing Clay, Jason, and Fox to look.

"Oh …" Clay moved one hand to his thigh and one to his side and applied pressure. "Didn't feel them …" he trailed off as he met Jason's hard gaze. "Adrenaline," he justified with one word.

Jason nodded, going into leader mode, and set Mikey down just as Ortiz returned and said, "Will be several minutes before one of the EMTs can come to check out the boy."

"Stay here, Mikey." Jason rose and peered at Sergeant Fox. "My team medic is outside. He can treat Clay and check my son."

"Name?" Fox asked.

"Trent Sawyer and Sonny Quinn is with him too … might need his help."

Fox ordered Ortiz to bring the two men in before he knelt next to Clay. "How'd you end up with two wounds?"

"The guy fired when I was about to take him down, thought it went wild, guess not, and he had a knife. We were struggling for control of the blade when the cops came in. I couldn't release my hold, or the lunatic would've stabbed me. Must've happened when they tased me."

"YOU TASED HIM?" Jason exploded.

Jim shook his head. "Not my guys … the patrolmen first to arrive." Not fazed by the outburst, Jim refocused on Clay. "Took six guys to restrain him. Gutsy move to go one on one with him."

"Wouldn't have if I had a choice, but he was prepared to shoot the female, and I couldn't let that occur. Didn't know it at the time, but I'm sure he's high on something." Clay grimaced as he spotted Trent and Sonny racing down the aisle. They were gonna be pissed at him.

"Wile E. Coyote, we can't leave you for an hour before you go chasing a roadrunner and end up on your ass," Sonny said as he came to a halt, noting the blood seeping through Clay's fingers, and the red marks on his eye and jaw.

Mikey sucked in a breath. "My fault … I wanted ice cream."

Four sets of Bravo eyes landed on Mikey as Clay said, "Not your fault. No. No. Get that out of your head, kiddo."

Jason pulled Mikey into his arms again, holding tight. "Things happen, son. You are not to blame."

"But if I didn't ask for ice cream … Clay wouldn't be hurt … and I know you didn't want him going out without one of you." Mikey teared up.

"Shush." Jason tucked his son's head into his shoulder to comfort him. Glad Mikey was unharmed and hoping Clay's injuries were not severe.

Sonny felt an inch tall. His words to Clay had been meant in jest … sort of, but he didn't count on hurting Mikey. He leaned on the freezer door and wondered how the hell he would make it up to Jason's son as Trent set to work on Clay's wounds.

* * *

 _ **Bravo Team Plane**_

Clay shifted to get more comfortable as he laid back on the gurney after Doc finished stitching up his leg, still befuddled why he had been taken on the mission with Bravo. No one explained anything to him yet … so he had no clue as to the mission or even where the hell they were headed. Nope, all he got was silence from the moment Jason, Trent, and Sonny got back in Jason's truck.

Propping his head against the second pillow to hold the cold pack to his eye, Clay dropped his arm to his side, and closed his eyes, recalling the events taking place after Sonny and Trent entered Oscar's mini-mart. Trent triaged his injuries, doing only field dressings at Oscar's because he didn't have his pack with him and couldn't do much more than cover the wounds.

Luckily, the bullet only grazed his side and didn't require stitches. It would sting for a bit but no big deal. His thigh didn't fare as well with the knife wound. He fucking hated knives now … the blade sliced deep enough to need sutures.

The last injury assessed, his eye, was another matter. When Trent probed his eye socket in Oscar's it was only tender with no vision issues, but after they took off, he developed a bit of double vision. Doc believed he might have a hairline fracture of the orbital floor, but wouldn't know until they did an x-ray wherever they landed and until then he prescribed an ice pack to reduce the swelling and started him on an antibiotic to prevent infection.

After Trent finished with him in Oscar's, their medic did a cursory check of Mikey. Once the examination was completed, and Mikey deemed fine … no harm, only frightened … Jason stood, and still holding onto his son, told Clay that Bravo would be wheels up in a few hours. Jason instructed Sonny to stay with him, while he took Mikey home to get his boy settled. Fortunately, Mrs. Hayes was still there and would be able to take care of Mikey if he had nightmares.

Trent went with Jason and Mikey, following Fox's advice to take Mikey out the back door so he would not be further traumatized by witnessing the bloody mess near the registers. Guilt ate at Clay for being the one to put Mikey in danger, something he never wanted to do. As he waited with Sonny for the crime scene detective to arrive and take his statement, thoughts of little Cami who died in the blast at Chuck's Creamery came to mind.

Feeling crappy both emotionally and physically, he appreciated Sonny not trying to engage him in conversation as they waited in the frozen food section of Oscar's because he didn't feel like talking to anyone. When the local police detective finally arrived, the woman appeared to understand the fluid nature of the SEAL's availability, so she was exceedingly detailed as she documented his account of what went down. The whole process took over an hour and a half.

By the time they reached Jason's home, with Sonny driving his Mustang, Clay was exhausted and ready for Trent to stitch him up so he could fall in bed. But the surprise list grew when instead, Sonny steered him directly to Jason's truck and made him climb in the backseat with no explanation before Sonny got in on the opposite side. As he peered out the window, Jason and Trent exited Jason's home.

At the time, he assumed instead of Trent sewing his thigh, Jason told Sonny he would be taking him to the base hospital … a plausible assumption derived from the few words he caught of Sonny's phone call to Jason as they drove to his home. He was disabused of his erroneous thinking when Jason's truck stopped on the tarmac, and he was told to go sit on the gurney, and Dr. Irving would be here shortly to stitch him up.

Apparently, the events at Oscar's put a crimp in the timeline for the team leaving, which meant he was left to his own devices as the guys all hustled to gather their gear. And the doc arrived last, with a harried expression, appearing irritated as he dumped several duffle bags and a backpack on the floor. The ramp came up within moments of Irving's arrival, so suturing him had to wait until they were in the air.

The label on the rucksack caused Clay's brows to arch … The Kid's Special Med Kit. He wondered if Doc had a special kit for each of them and asked as Irving injected lidocaine solution into his thigh as he prepped him for sutures. The answer he got was a sigh and a shake of his head, and with minimal conversation directed solely on the injuries, Doc completed the procedure and his examination of his eye when he revealed he was experiencing intermittent double vision.

No one on the team seemed to want to talk to him, which partially disturbed him, but Clay decided to take the opportunity to rest … he was exhausted anyway. After a nap would be soon enough to demand some answers, he sighed, let his aching muscles relax, and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 _ **Unknown Location**_

Rocking clued her in that she must be in a boat … not a large one, or else the swells wouldn't be making it go up and down so much. Nausea caused her to turned to the side and take little panting breaths hoping to quell the need to lose her lunch. By the smell of engine oil and the darkness surrounding her, she figured she was in the bowels of the boat, yacht, trawler … whatever.

Opening her eyes didn't reveal any details and bound as she was, wrists behind her and attached via a chain to a thick pipe, didn't allow her to explore her area either. Her head throbbed, and the last thing she recalled was coming out of the Ornery Octopus Pub. She was oblivious of how much time passed between blacking out to waking here. Nor could she comprehend why she was here.

Besides the pounding headache and nausea, she ached all over, as if she had been tossed about with little care. Waiting had never been one of her strong points … except when she was waiting for a target, so sitting here in the dark in an unknown location for an unknown reason, and on an unknown person's timetable caused her to be out of sorts.

The primary thing keeping Katie calm was knowing, without a doubt, Koala and her mates would miss her. When she didn't show, they would search for her, and they would not give up until they found her. She only hoped whoever took her left a shred of evidence behind to give them a clue.

* * *

 _ **Bravo Team Plane**_

"Jace, how you holding, brother?" Ray took a seat across from Jason who had positioned himself away from everyone else and for the last hour merely stared at a sleeping Clay who lay strapped in on the gurney at the back of the plane.

Scrubbing his face with his palms, Jason let out a long sigh. "Can't get the images out of my head."

Not wanting to assume what images, Ray reached out a hand and lay it on Jason's thigh. "Which ones?"

Leaning back in the webbed seat and crossing his arms, Jason's face morphed through several emotions. "Doesn't matter."

"It does. Are you angry with Clay?"

"No. Yes. No. Hell, sort of."

"Not his fault … a freak … I don't know … a one-off incident, a coincidence."

"I know, I know! It could've been Emma and Mikey in there. Damned glad it wasn't. Clay saved Mikey. Not mad about him going for ice cream … … more for the fact Spenser didn't even realize he was shot and knifed … and now this damned double vision." Jason let out another sigh.

"Clay's injuries freaked out Mikey more than the situation. Losing his mom to a car accident and seeing blood on Clay … well, shit … Mikey's gonna be having a tough time, and I'm not able to be there for him. And now all this crap with Ash …" Jason tightened his arms in response to the tightening of his chest.

"If you think this is Ash related, it would be hard to pull off something like that … timing wise, and the drugged-out junkie."

"No, I don't think Ash had anything to do with the robbery. Unlike where we are going."

Ray rubbed the back of his neck. "Mandy can't definitively draw a link between Ash and whoever is searching for marriage records on Clay. There may be a connection with the operation we did down under. They did encounter a ton of people as they posed as a couple."

Jason shook his head. "Gut tells me they are related, especially with Katie missing. Koala is level-headed and also doesn't believe in coincidences like this. Clay called Katie his wife when Ash attacked him outside the bar. She kicked Ashhole in the nuts.

"An egomaniac like Ash wouldn't let being one-upped go without retribution of some sort. The timing fits since the searching started after the altercation, and months after we were last in Australia. And whoever it is was searching for Clay Spenser, not Clay Kissingher."

Near the front of the plane, Sonny swung in his hammock, but his gaze never left the kid. He wanted to talk to him, but Trent slipped the kid a sedative telling him it was an analgesic, indicating Clay needed rest after being tasered, cut, grazed, and punched so hard in the eye he might have a blowout fracture of his orbital socket.

Their brother had been put through the wringer already, and none of them had the heart to be the one to tell him Katie Kilpatrick was missing. One reason they stayed silent on the truck ride from Jason's home to the base and dropped the kid off at the plane without an explanation.

Jason would break it to Clay once he woke up and they were closer to landing in Perth, but until then their little brother would be blissfully ignorant and be able to get the rest his body needed to begin or continue healing. Though part of him felt it was a slight bit of betrayal not to tell him straight away. Clay would be pissed when he found out.

Trent stood and stretched before sauntering to the rear of the plane, wanting to check on Clay again. Although the risks were low, tasers could cause cardiac arrhythmia in healthy subjects, so he and Doc would monitor Clay for several days just to be on the safe side. Catching Irving's eye, Trent whispered, "How's our boy doing?"

"Well, no new issues." Irving yawned as he switched out a cold pack after checking the swelling of Spenser's left eye.

"Grab some sleep. I'll keep overwatch for a few hours." When Irving nodded and laid down across several seats, Trent settled himself on one of the strapped down crates where he could keep an eye on Clay. He turned as Cerberus padded up to him. "Hey, boy. No jumping up on him tonight."

Cerberus cocked his head and let out a soft, "Woof." I know, our boy is hurt again. He shouldn't be coming with us. But he would be mad if we left him behind. I like Katie … she's nice … nicer than Stella. Cerb hopped up on the crate and nuzzled his head under Trent's hand and turned his eyes towards Clay, keeping Trent company as he kept watch too.

* * *

 _ **Unknown Location**_

Bright light spilling into the area caused Katie to squint. Someone entered, but she could not make out the face. "Who are you and why did you abduct me?"

A water bottle was tipped on her lips, and she drank until her captor took it away. As the indistinguishable figure receded, still in the shadows, she asked again, "What do you want with me?"

The light switched off, leaving it dark again as the door started to shut. A disembodied male voice with an American accent said, "You're only bait."

The sound of a lock sealing her in left Katie disheartened but not defeated. She pondered who she might be bait for. Her grandparents were not rich by any means, sure they had property in the outback, but nothing grandiose. The only obvious idea was someone found out she was a member of SAS and wanted to use her as a lure for her squad. That thought upset her, but she possessed confidence in Koala and the others not to be set up. They would be careful, they would find her, and those who took her would rue the day they came up with the notion of using her to get to them.

Katie closed her eyes and allowed her mind to go to a happy place since she could do nothing to escape her current predicament. Thoughts of her time with Clay came to mind. She smiled as her memory of them showering together, his attentive hands on her breasts, and his luscious lips … oh, how she enjoyed kissing Clay.

* * *

 _ **Bravo Team Plane**_

Clay roused, blinking several times as the droning of the engines reminded him he was on a plane, flying somewhere. He tested his vision as he stared at the ceiling, and thankfully, everything came into focus fine, but the swelling prevented him from opening his left eye fully. He started to push up and found himself strapped in. "What the hell?" His hand moved for the mechanism, and as he grasped it, Sonny came into his view.

"Hang tight. I'll undo you, Raggedy Andy." Sonny unsnapped the strap over Clay's chest and moved to the one on his lower limbs.

"Raggedy what?" Clay scrunched up his face at another new name. At the rate Sonny kept changing his name, people might think he had multiple personalities.

"You know, the floppy doll … you weren't all stiff like a plastic Ken doll, so we had to lock you down so you wouldn't add to your collection of injuries." Sonny flipped the nylon tie-down off.

Clay sat up and swung his feet off the side. He groaned as his still aching muscles protested the movement. Clay grumbled, "Feel stiff."

"Being tasered will do that," Trent said as he moved forward and handed Clay a water bottle. "Hydrate." Then held out two pills, "Take these too. They'll help."

Brock arrived next and waited for Clay to down the ibuprofen tablets before he put a brown paper sack on his lap. "Peanut butter sandwich and an apple in there for you. We still have about two hours until we arrive, so it's about all we got unless you want an MRE."

"Thanks." Clay pulled out the apple, and took a bite, starving and wondering how long they had been in the air because he felt truly rested. As he munched Jason, Ray, and Blackburn joined the semi-circle around him. "So, someone gonna tell me why I'm here and where we're headed?"

Jason rubbed the nape of his neck before he said, "I thought you needed to be here, and Blackburn isn't overjoyed but agreed to get you cleared to come with one caveat. You're restricted to ops command. You will not be joining us in the field. Understood?"

"Roger." Clay scanned his brothers, unsure what to make of their inscrutable expressions.

"We are on our way to Perth," Jason said.

"Australia?" Clay's jaw dropped. His mind did a quick calculation and the flight time would be about twenty-one hours, so that meant he slept for at least seventeen if not eighteen hours straight. His gaze turned to Trent. "You slipped me a sedative didn't you."

"Guilty as charged. How do you feel?" Trent leaned on one of the crates.

Clay chuckled. "Rested, sore, and hungry." Switching his focus back to Jason he asked, "Why should I be here? What can I offer in ops?"

"Perhaps information, but mostly … it is safer for you to be with us. Mandy was notified when a red flag popped up when someone began searching on your name."

"My name? Why?" Clay unwrapped the sandwich and took a huge bite.

Jason blew out a breath. "Someone wanted to know who you married, when, and where."

Clay stopped chewing, the peanut butter acted like glue, causing his one word to garble, "Ash."

"We think so, but Mandy hasn't been able to make a solid connection. There is something else …"

Swallowing his mouthful, the sandwich landed like lead in the pit of Clay's stomach as he waited for Jason to continue.

Jason met Clay's gaze. "Katie Kilpatrick went missing five days ago. Commander Kingston reached out to Ellis yesterday when it came to light someone was searching on Katie's name, looking for a marriage certificate with your name on it. Koala and I believe this is no coincidence. We just don't know what the end game is yet."

Clay sagged on the gurney as many notions circled in his mind. "My father truly hates me …" he trailed off, and his head bowed.

Bravo hated to see the defeated posture of their cocky rookie. Sonny was about to say, 'buck up buckaroo,' but Clay surprised them all.

Lifting his head, pulling his shoulder's back, ram-rod straight, fire forged steel reflecting in his blue orbs, Clay spoke with conviction, "He damn-well better not hurt Katie, or there will be no place he can hide … not in the darkest jungle or at the bottom of the deepest ocean. I will hunt him. I will find him. I will make him pay, and I will step out of his shadow and outshine the obsolete Ashhole, and there will never be a question again who is the better man."

Sonny laid his hand on Clay's shoulder. "Only one change there, Super Nova. We will be there with you every step of the way. Six brothers … one heartbeat."

.

 _... To be continued in AI-P..._

* * *

 **AN:** Sorry for the long wait, but at least the chapter is a long one. Starting work on AI-P which will be the conclusion of this story arc. Enjoy, and drop me a quick comment and let me know what you like, or if you have any suggestions for P, Q, and R letters.


	16. Paternal Perfidy and Persevering Progeny

**Paternal Perfidy and Persevering Progeny**

* * *

 **AN:** This one is long, 24,700 words, so there are 8 chapter headers embedded if you need to take a break while reading and want to mark your place.

 **Sequel to:** _Fading into Nothingness, AI-O, and AI-N._

 **Summary** : Bravo Team flies to Australia when Katie Kilpatrick goes missing. Although intel can't pin her disappearance on Ash Spenser, Clay and the rest of Bravo have a gut feeling he is responsible. Allowed to come, but ordered to remain in ops since he isn't cleared for field work, Clay relies on his protective brothers to rescue Katie. When things go sideways, will he persevere to save her and his brothers?

 _._

* * *

 **CHAPTER 1  
Psychotic Pride & Protective Brothers**

 _ **Philadelphia, Pennsylvania – Public Library**_

A green and white Philly Eagles hat pulled low, concealed his facial features, and the long locks of black hair from the wig he wore disguised his actual graying hair. Ash paid the cabbie in cash and slid out of the Prius. Using a fake limp he ambled towards the library entrance as if he had not a care in the world. The jacket he selected made him appear to possess a paunchy beer belly, which completed his ensemble and purposeful deception.

Taking a round-about route, he eventually ended up at the public computer section. He selected one where his back was to a wall, ensuring no one could walk behind him without him noticing. He inserted a USB stick and started a program which would wipe any trace of his usage of the computer and encrypt his path. He might be PNG but he still possessed all the skills he used when he operated. After accessing the darknet and typing a message he hit send.

Leaning forward, he rested his chin in his palm as he waited for a response. The last three weeks had been full of frustration which required patience. At first, he couldn't locate his son but then found him hiding like a pussy at his team leader's home. Again, he questioned if his wife had played him the fool and if Clay were actually of his blood. Though he told Clay he was proud of him when he stopped by his apartment to ask him out for a drink, that was all bullshit meant to establish a link to Clay so everyone would assume Clay relayed confidential information to him.

He also waited a long time for Olivia to come back with a name. She couldn't locate any marriage certificate in either the U.S. or in Australia, so he assumed the little shit lied to him. But why, he couldn't figure out, until he happened upon an international news article. An old sea dawg who lived on Keeling Island claimed a combined force of American and Australian military sunk his trawler, the Kobayashi Maru, and his tale included mentions of someone being punched and knocked into the water when he failed to board a boat with two others named Clay and Katie.

Since he had Katie Kilpatrick's name, he began digging for more details. He found that Karen and Gareth Dilbert, an international power couple with strong ties to the defense of both Australia and the U.S. had gone missing, and a local dive master and the magistrate had been arrested for illegal shark fin harvesting and for attempted murder for leaving the Dilberts in the ocean.

The articles never indicated who rescued the couple, but that all occurred at the same time his source fed him bogus information about Bravo Team rescuing American hostages in Mozambique. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out where and what Bravo Team had been and done. From there, he made plans once he found out Katie Kilpatrick was in the SAS.

A notion which disgusted him … women had no business being in elite assault teams. But it did explain how she was able to block his blow and set him on his ass with a kick to his privates. His point about females not belonging proved valid. She was easily abducted outside the Ornery Octopus and never noticed when the drugs were slipped in her drink. His contact said she went down without a fight in the parking lot.

The only hitch in his plan, one he had not counted on initially was finding out Clay was not on active duty … the wuss was still on medical leave for some reason, which he still had not discovered. Most likely it had to do with all those bandages on his back. And then the robbery at the mini-mart … that one almost took care of the problem for him. If the man high on PCP had only aimed better, his pathetic excuse for a son might already be pushing up daisies.

It did surprise him when Bravo took Clay with them … but served his initial purpose and plan. That is why he snuck out of his Baltimore hotel room, where he was staying to do a book signing tomorrow, took an hour bus ride up to Philadelphia, and a taxi to this library. He would be back in Baltimore in a few hours, no one the wiser for him making this trip, thus solidifying an alibi, and nothing would be traceable to him, even if for some reason his purging program failed.

The ping of a response pulled him from his ruminations. He read the message, and a smile grew. He would not count his chickens yet, but with any luck, Clay, Katie, and the rest of Bravo would not be returning from the Philippines, and his pugnacious son would never have the chance to erase his footsteps.

Ash tapped a few more keys, ensured the program wiped his history from the computer, pulled out a cloth and wiped down the keyboard, not leaving any trace. He stood and pocketed his USB drive, then ambled out again making sure his face was turned away from any cameras.

* * *

 _ **Special Air Service Regiment – TOC**_

Bravo team entered the tactical operations room used by Koala's squad. They noted solemn yet determined expressions on all five men who turned from paying attention to their intelligence officer at the front of the room to the American SEAL team entering. Blackburn and Ellis moved towards the front, as the rest including Davis went to the rear of the room.

Though Mandy couldn't peg this on his father for certain, Clay's gut told him the same thing Jason's did … Ash was involved somehow. Unsure what type of reception he would get from Katie's squad or if they knew about the potential association, Clay held back and was the last to enter. His progress slow and uncomfortable, his muscles still sore from being tasered, and the stitches in his thigh pulled a bit with each step, he tried to hide his limp as he followed his team.

He halted when Koala's gaze landed on him. He didn't fear any physical retribution, none of his protective brothers would allow any of them to get within arm's distance of him, but guilt plagued him. If he had not called Katie his wife, he believed Ash wouldn't have used her to get to him, and she wouldn't be mixed up in this. Clay couldn't read the expression on the normally pleasant squad leader, so he continued to hobble to a chair in the back.

Koala stood and rounded the table upon spying Clay. The contusions on his face and the way he walked concerned him. "What are you doing here?"

Apparently, Bravo team didn't like his tone, as evidenced by the wall of muscled men which formed between him and Clay in an instant and the hard planes of Hayes' tense features and his challenging glare as he said, "Back off."

Palms going up and facing outward, Koala said, "Whoa, no need to bite my head off. He looks like bloody hell. Katie said he was injured, but on the mend. He doesn't appear so much healed to me … limping, bruised jaw, swollen eye … he should be resting at home, not here."

Jason took a breath, realizing they all overreacted, but after recent events, they refused to allow Clay to be harmed again. From behind them, Clay said, "I'm fine," which caused Jason to turn towards his rookie.

"Sit down and shut up," Jason ordered Spenser.

Clay gingerly lowered himself into a chair and found Trent and Sonny flanking him in short order and Brock standing behind him literally covering his back as Cerb took up a position directly in front of him, standing on guard. It took all Clay had not to laugh out loud, it wouldn't be appreciated or appropriate, but in some way, their display of protectiveness delighted him … something his psychotic father was not capable of doing. Ashhole had never provided him one ounce of protection.

Shifting his gaze back to Koala, Jason said, "He will be fine for ops only, not field work."

"What happened?" Danvers asked.

Blackburn cleared his throat to redirect attention to him. "Later. Let's focus on the situation at hand. Have you made any headway in locating Kilpatrick?"

Paul DeSoto, an agent with Australian Secret Intelligence Service, assigned when red flags popped up as someone searched for information on a current SAS operator, spoke, "So far, the only details we've uncovered is security footage from the Ornery Octopus parking lot camera, which shows Kilpatrick being tossed into a van. Traffic cameras tracked it until it was lost about a mile from the marina. We have been unsuccessful in locating any sign of the van since that night."

Mandy stepped forward. "One of my analysists found something which might be helpful. Chatter on a back channel didn't throw any normal flags, but an established terrorist group based in Puerto Princesa, a coastal city on Palawan Island in the western Philippines, is known to be involved in kidnappings on land and at sea. They use the ransom obtained from their victim's families to fund their activities.

"One communique indicated they seized and have for sale a high-value female. It appears they are branching out … willing to sell people to the highest bidder. We have not determined if it is Kilpatrick, but the timing is consistent with her disappearance. We're continuing to dig, but if it is her, they are said to keep their captives on a moving trawler, until they are ready to be exchanged. At which time they put the person in an inflatable dingy, provide coordinates to whoever paid the ransom, and are long gone before anyone arrives to pick up the person. We expect they will use the same MO for selling as well."

Clay listened as Mandy continued to give details. He possessed a powerful desire to join his brothers and take out the pirates who profited by kidnapping innocent people, but he understood that Jason would shut him down and would not be budged one inch … especially in the pitiful condition he now found himself in. If only he had avoided being shot, knifed or have his face used as a punching bag, he might've been able to sway his team leader, but he had no chance in hell now.

His thoughts drifted to Katie, hoping she fared well. From the accounts Mandy relayed to him on the plane, this group provided nourishment to their captives, preferring them to be alive when the ransom is paid. By creating and maintaining a reputation of delivering live captives, they ensured the probability the families of future victims would pay to get their loved ones back. But this new twist, selling to the highest bidder was an unknown, and the potential existed they might treat their prisoners differently.

Clay bowed his head and rubbed his forehead, hoping to stave off the pounding headache forming. He lifted and turned to the right as a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Need something for the pain?" Trent asked.

"No, I'm good."

Trent eyed Clay. "Don't be puerile."

"What?"

"Childishly silly," Trent clarified.

"I'm not," Clay pouted, to get a rise out of Trent.

"Un huh?" Trent smirked, glad to see a little humor from the kid. He pulled a bottle of pills from his pocket, shook out two, and handed them to Clay. "Take them."

Clay didn't resist, he popped them in expecting to dry swallow, but a water bottle appeared to his left.

"Don't want you choking on the pills, Ponyboy." Sonny shoved the bottle into Spenser's hand, and a satisfied grin grew as the kid downed half the contents.

A short time later, the briefing concluded. With no active target yet, Koala escorted Bravo to portable barracks which had been assigned to them for the duration of their stay.

* * *

 _ **Unknown Location**_

Katie woke, noting a change in her circumstances, but before she could scan her new area, she was consumed by coughing. Winded after what felt like hacking up a lung, Katie lay back on the soft bed and cracked an eye open. A single porthole allowed sunshine to fill the small cabin.

Her head throbbed as she peered around. One wrist had a heavy, wide manacle encircling it, and a sturdy chain ran from the loop on one side of the cuff and was attached to a pipe midway between the bed she lay on and what appeared to be a lavatory with a sink and toilet. On a tiny round table secured to the flooring, sat a tray with a sandwich and a plastic cup.

Recognizing she needed to keep her strength up, she pushed to a seated position, intending to get the food they left. It was probably the same peanut butter sandwich they fed her every day, but beggars couldn't be choosers, and at least they had not chosen to starve her. Her legs wobbly from non-use over the past, who knows how many days, Katie made her way to the table.

Lightheadedness accompanied her on the short trip, and she sank onto the little stool and devolved into another fit of coughing. Her hand shaking, she reached for the water cup and managed not to spill any of the precious liquid as she brought it up to her mouth and sipped.

Tightness in her chest didn't bode well. At a minimum, she developed a chest cold, but with her luck, it would likely turn into pneumonia. She suffered bouts of it several times as a child and teen. The damp and cold engine room she had been in increased the persistent cough in the last day or so. This dry and warmer area might prevent full-blown pneumonia if it had not already set in.

The actions of her captors confused her. They rarely spoke, in fact, other than the 'you're bait' comment from one, none had said a single word to her, though she caught fragments of conversations which occurred outside her room. They wanted her alive, that was obvious, but unless they planned on doing a proof-of-life communication, she couldn't figure out why because frankly, if she were bait, they could kill her now and no one would be the wiser.

She nibbled on the sandwich, forcing herself to eat, although her stomach wanted nothing to do with the sustenance. After a quarter of it, she set it down, unable to consume more, but didn't worry, since it would be there for her later. Katie finished the water, then made her way back to the bunk.

Pulling the thin blanket over her shoulders, Katie lay down and shut her eyes. _Koala, please be careful. I don't want any of you hurt coming after me … but please hurry too._ A wave of racking coughs seized her body again, leaving her exhausted and covered in a light sheen of perspiration as her fever increased.

Drifting off again, she didn't glimpse the man peering in at her from the passageway via the small window. If she had, she might've shuddered or prepared to kick him in the balls upon witnessing the predatory leer.

.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 2  
Promises, Plans, Pops, and Pissed Off**

 _ **Special Air Service Regiment – Bravo Barracks**_

Sonny glanced over at Clay who sat on his bunk, eyes closed and back leaned against the wall. He was happy the room didn't hold bunkbeds, because the kid was in no condition to climb to the top of one, and well, hell he hated being on the top but would've taken it to help out his brother. What made him unhappy, was Clay's demeanor after returning from the medical center on base.

Dr. Irving arranged for the x-ray and snagged Clay from them as they exited the briefing several hours ago. The rest of them racked out, with nothing actionable and fighting a bit of jetlag, they all believed a little sleep would be beneficial. He had been the only one awake when Clay entered and sat down on his bed. The quiet downcast expression made him wonder if the meth-head had fractured Clay's orbital socket. If so, it would put him off duty until it healed … more than the two weeks Trent insisted on due to the knife wound in Clay's thigh.

Not for the first time, Sonny wondered how many guardian angels the kid had. He should've died so many times since joining Bravo, but he didn't, and he rebounded fast. Though he also wondered why the hell it was Clay who was always the one getting beat to hell … his angels must suck at protecting him … or the kid was just too damned pig-headed to listen to them.

An image of a bedraggled angel, with drooping wings, down on his knees, hands clasps, as he pleaded to be assigned to another charge caused Sonny's lips to turn up at the edges. Yeah, the kid is a challenge, but one he didn't mind taking on.

Sure, when Jason first told him to take Spenser under his wing, he had balked. He wasn't kidding about Ray making sure his ass had been the first one through the door … but Ray had been a different person back then. Only Naima smoothed him out, but now … Sonny took a quick peek at Ray … now he wondered what was happening to Ray. Mexico had been a shitstorm from start to finish and left them all off-center for a while, but Ray's bubble still appeared to be to the left of center.

A sigh from Clay's direction had Sonny turning back to him. He wondered what was going on in the kid's head — only one way to find out. Sonny heaved himself up, crossed the room and sat on the foot of Clay's bed. "Okay, who pissed in your cheerios?"

"Go away, Sonny." Clay didn't bother to open his eyes.

"Not when you look like the only pound puppy not adopted. Spill it, Kid." When Clay ignored him, Sonny scrutinized him closer as he contemplated how to make him talk — apparently, remaining quiet did the trick.

"Wish we had something more to go on." Clay peered at Sonny.

"Me too. Once we do, promise you we will do our damnedest to bring Katie back."

"I know. Want to go with you … she's important to me and shouldn't be mixed up in this paternal unit perfidy."

Sonny chuckled. "Paternal unit? Perfidy? You sound like a robot."

"Wish I was, then guilt wouldn't be ripping at my chest like a hungry polar bear trying to consume me. No matter what anyone says, this is my fault. I told Ash I wasn't following in his footsteps … I was erasing them. He never was a caring parent, but I never considered he would do something like this. I don't understand why."

Clay's eyes filled with a pensive far-away glaze as an old memory clarified and took on an ominous new meaning for him. "He tried to drown me as a kid. We were swimming in the ocean when I was about ten … one of the few times he spent with me, and I was on cloud nine since his team was there too … kinda like when we took Mikey to play paintball with us.

"Ash disappeared from the surface, and I got scared. I started to freak out searching for him. I spotted Adam on the beach waved at him. Then something grabbed my leg and pulled me under. In a blind panic, I struggled and kicked, but keep going further down.

"My lungs burned for air. Ash's face appeared next to mine. It was murky, but I could've sworn he smiled. Not a nice one, more malevolent … scared the shit out of me. My foot connected with something solid and whatever pulled me down loosened, but unable to hold my breath longer I dragged in a mouth full of water. Things started to go black, but several oblong forms appeared and all of a sudden, something propelled me to the surface.

"I remember coming to on the beach, Adam leaning over me, his eyes piercing as he told me to breathe. Ash lay next to me, panting, and he said something about saving me from a shark. Adam said there was a pod of dolphins in the area and perhaps they scared off the shark because he never saw one. I didn't know what to believe. I decided he saved me … cause what kid wants to think his father would want to drown him.

"But now … it is clear he did try to drown me … my nightmares make sense. He dragged me down, I kicked him, but I think the dolphins helped me … and Adam … he did mouth-to-mouth and chest compressions after he dragged me onto the sand."

Clay fell silent, and all Sonny could do was stare. He couldn't contemplate his own dad hating him or trying to murder him. Passionate rage burned red-hot inside, and Sonny wanted to rip Ash to pieces. "I promise, Ash will pay … we will get payback for then and now."

Defeated, Clay shook his head. "Nothing ties him to this though my gut tells me he is involved. And the previous charges … he evaded prison … and if Mandy does find something, he'll find a way to evade justice again."

Unsure what else he could say, Sonny patted Clay's knee. He rose and quietly said, "Grab some shut eye. Mandy will have something for us soon." Recalling Clay's trip to the hospital, he asked, "How's your eye?"

Scooting down in his bunk, Clay replied, "Fine … no fracture."

"Good. Only wee set back then." Sonny ambled over to his bed, and once he lay down, he studied the kid for several more minutes. _A promise is a promise. I will get payback for you, little brother._

* * *

 _ **Ten Days Later – SAS Regiment Training Field**_

Going absolutely stir crazy, and royally pissed off they had no lead on Katie, Clay snuck out of the barracks without his ever-present minders, needing a moment to himself to get a grip. He wasn't stupid enough to go far, or leave the base, or overexert himself, but moderate-paced jog through the wooded training area in the fresh air would do him a world of good.

Clay glanced up at the eucalyptus trees, and a grin played on his face as he recalled teasing Sonny about the drop bears. Katie and Koala were a hoot in how they presented the fictional carnivorous creature. Australia surely had enough real deadly animals they didn't need to create a fake one, but watching Sonny's reactions as they walked to and from the chow hall which required them to traverse a section with trees gave him something to chuckle about.

Koala's second in command, Kasey, had Sonny believing in a venomous snake and spider repellant aftershave made from the flower called Rafflesia arnoldii. Also known as the stinking corpse lily, which gave off the odor of a dead, decaying and putrid corpse, with a hint of fish and sweaty socks for good measure. Jason put the kibosh on Sonny trying it because Cerberus gagged, along with the rest of them, when Sonny opened the bottle Kasey gave him.

Reaching the small knoll, Clay stopped and gazed around at the place where Katie should be, and his mood plummeted again. Taking a seat in the grass, Clay pulled his knees up and crossed his arms over them then laid his forehead on them. He took several deep breaths, trying to clear his head.

The only possible benefit to it taking so long to locate Katie is he might be in a position to talk Jason into allowing him to go with them. Especially since Doc planned to remove his stitches tomorrow, and with nothing else to focus on while they waited for a target, all of Bravo and Koala's team facilitated the physical rehab necessary for him to return.

A noise signaling he was no longer alone caused Clay to lift his head to discover which one of his brothers came searching for him. Finding Davis standing there was a bit of a surprise. "Morning."

"Hey. What are you doing out here alone?" Lisa plopped down next to Clay and wiped the sweat from her brow. With OCS coming up, she couldn't stop her conditioning training, so got up extra early every morning to go for a long run.

"Needed a moment without a bunch of peahens clucking at me." Clay flashed Lisa a smile.

"They can be a bit much, huh?"

"Understatement."

"They care is all … working your ass off is how they show it. They want you back as soon as possible." Lisa watched as the sun peeked over the horizon and sent up a silent plea that today they would find Katie's location and rescue her. The past ten days had been wearing on all of them, mostly because they were aware of how this preyed on Clay's mind. Their plans to keep him busy with physical activities only went so far in alleviating his constant worry for his friend.

"I'm hoping Doc clears me tomorrow."

Lisa nodded but kept quiet. What Clay didn't realize, or possibly accept, is that Jason wouldn't be allowing Spenser to go with them even if he was cleared. She and Sonny talked last night. This was too personal for Clay which was never a good thing in the field. As professional as they all were, they feared if Katie was found dead, Clay might snap, and all of Bravo wanted to protect him from losing it while in a potentially hostile environment.

Standing, Lisa said, "Wanna jog back with me?"

In a smooth motion, Clay rose and grinned. "Twenty says I beat you back."

Lisa laughed as she bolted away and shouted, "You're on."

Clay caught up with little effort, and he jogged alongside Davis until they got close to their destination. Spying his teammates, and wanting to prove to them he was healed, Clay poured on the speed and left Lisa in the dust. Reaching the guys, he grinned and turned back to Davis and hollered. "I win," before focusing on Jason. "I'm good to go."

Sonny snorted. "Beating Davis doesn't prove anything."

Jason arched a brow. "Still not cleared."

"Hope to hell you didn't pull any stitches. Didn't authorize you to run full bore." Trent glared at Spenser.

Pushing down his ire, his improved mood soured again, Clay opened his mouth to retort but was preempted when Blackburn appeared around the corner and said, "Guys, need you in TOC. Mandy found a potential target location."

* * *

 _ **Unknown Location**_

Shivering, Katie huddled under her blanket. She had been aware of the passing days thanks to the porthole in her previous quarters which allowed light, and a limited amount of fresh air, to come into her prison cell. She had scratched little marks in the wall to count them for six days but lost count after her altercation with the pervert.

On day six, finding herself in a weakened state with the constant hacking and fever, she awoke in the afternoon to a hand squeezing her bare breast and another hand slipping into the waistband of her pants. The perv who leered at her each time he brought her food, had made his move, one she had been anticipating at some point.

Though sick as a dog with pneumonia that zapped her energy, she used her training. Kneed him in the nuts and popped him in the nose. Blood splattered on her as it poured out of his orifice. She continued her surprise attack, by taking him to the ground and wrapping the chain that linked her to the wall around his neck. His puny cries for help brought his pals, and she paid for her actions as two men pummeled her to make her release the would-be rapist.

One hard whack sent her into darkness, and when she awoke, she was in a different location with no portal to the outside world. Katie could no longer tell one day from the next with only the single lightbulb which remained on in the tiny area. She now slept on a pad on the cold floor, and the only warmth came from the thin blanket.

Her only constants were a hacking cough, stale peanut butter sandwiches, and bottled water. Instead of a lavatory, she now only had a pot to pee in … but at least they provided one and emptied it regularly.

She had not seen the pervert again. Katie wondered if she scared him off or if he had been punished for trying to rape her. Either way, she didn't really care and counted her blessings that she didn't have to fend him off again because her condition deteriorated further and she feared she wouldn't possess the stamina necessary to do so again.

Reaching for the water, Katie forced herself to drink as she eyed the sandwich. Her hand shook, and she nearly spilled her precious liquid. Capping the bottle, a weak, tight cough caused her to lose her breath, and she dropped the water bottle which rolled across the tiny room. Fighting back tears, knowing she didn't possess the strength to crawl over to retrieve her water, she hoped the pitching of the boat would bring it back to her soon.

Stubborn by nature, Katie panted for breath, each one harder to draw in than the last. She wondered how much longer she could hang on and prayed her team would find her before her body gave out.

Katie blinked as a vision of Pops appeared before her. Her dad was young and healthy as she remembered from her childhood and he smiled at her. Her voice came out breathless and ragged, "Pops … help … me."

Peter Kilpatrick knelt beside his daughter. His fingers brushed through her sweat-drenched wheat blonde hair as his eyes shone with pure love. _"Katie, my girl, you are so strong. Keep faith in your squad … they will come for you."_

"But …" Katie coughed again, the act draining her of what little energy she possessed.

 _"No buts, sweetheart. You are a Kilpatrick … you don't know how to quit. You will persevere. Rest now, and save your strength."_

Katie closed her eyes and did as her father bid, soaking in the love his touch provided even though her practical mind reminded her she only hallucinated his presence.

* * *

 _ **SAS Regiment – TOC**_

Clay and Koala's entire team seethed as Bravo exited the operations center to prepare for the rescue mission. Jason had been firm in his denial of Spenser joining the team, and although Katie was Australian, only Bravo had been given clearance to operate in the Philippines. So the people who cared the most about Katie were pissed off they had been sidelined, and Clay paced at the rear of the room as Koala's CO tried to pacify his angry men.

Eric moved to Clay, understanding Spenser's primal need to be involved, but his pragmatic nature caused him to make the unpopular decision to restrict Clay to ops. "They'll bring her back."

Clenching his fists, wanting to hit something, Clay ground out, "I'm fine. I should be with them."

"You may be physically fit," Eric tapped Clay's forehead, "but psychologically you aren't prepared. This is too close and too personal, and I'm not willing to put you in a precarious position. Nor the rest of the team. They need to be focused on the mission, not on you."

"You're saying I'm a liability? I'm a team guy. I can keep my shit together. That's what I'm trained for. This is bullshit." Clay's piercing gaze bore into Blackburn.

"You are not cleared yet, and you came on this mission with the understanding you would be in ops only. That was the plan, and I see nothing to warrant a change, Petty Officer Spenser."

The use of his rank and Blackburn's icy tone of brought back to Clay he was speaking to an officer. Message received loud and clear, Clay dialed back his peevishness and replied, "Lima Charlie, sir."

Clay pivoted and marched out of the room to gather his gear for the flight. It would be approximately a five-hour flight to the point where Jason and the guys would parachute into the Sulu Sea off the coast of Palawan Island, and another quarter hour before the plane landed at Puerto Princesa International Airport where they would run HAVOC. He wanted to go with them, but would follow orders, and not risk being left in Perth with Koala's team. At least he would be able to be there for Katie on the trip back to Australia.

.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 3  
Panic Attack**

 _ **Bravo Team Plane**_

As his teammates donned their parachute packs, Clay found himself breaking out in a cold sweat and he had to clench his hands to prevent anyone from noticing they shook. Blackburn's words came back and hit him full force … _psychologically you aren't prepared._

He had scoffed at the lieutenant commander's assessment … mentally he could handle anything. He was one badass SEAL, primed to run towards danger when everyone else ran the opposite direction. He trained and developed strength and fortitude to cope with torture and never divulge anything except his name, rank, and service number.

Clay withstood, bones busted by baseball bats, being burned by red-hot pokers and deranged doctors fire-cupping his back, bullets, knives, and hundreds of needles piercing his skin, and being hoisted with a damned whaling hook embedded in his gut.

Yes, he experienced nightmares about all the shit he endured, but any sane person would … or at least that is what his brothers reiterated to him over and over as he recovered from various injuries. But never once did he fear going back into the fight.

Bullets flying around him just made him more focused on his mission. He trained with Sonny, to further develop his hand-to-hand skills in a knife fight, not that they weren't already better than most, but he wanted to perfect them. He was a SEAL, through and through.

Their credo coursed through his veins. _My nation expects me to be physically harder, and mentally stronger than my enemies._

 _If I get knocked down, I will get back up, every time. I will draw on every remaining ounce of strength to protect my teammates and to accomplish our mission. I'm never out of the fight._

 _We demand discipline. We expect innovation. The lives of my teammates and the success of our mission depend on me. Our training is never complete. We train for war, we fight to win._

 _I stand ready to bring the full spectrum of combat power to bear in order to achieve my mission and the goals established by my country. The execution of my duties will be swift and violent when required, yet guided by the principles I serve to defend._

 _Brave men have fought and died building the proud tradition and feared reputation I am bound to uphold. In the worst of conditions, the legacy of my teammates steadies my resolve and silently guides my every deed._

 _I will not fail._

But if he had to stand at this very moment and don a parachute, he would fail. Panic violently course through his body at the mere thought of stepping off the back of the plane and tumbling through the air. This realization shook Clay to the core, and his breathing became ragged to the point of hyperventilating. His oxygen mask fogged up with his rapid exhalations, and little black pinpoints filled his vision.

Perry was the first to notice Clay's distress. He tapped Jason's arm to gain his attention and pointed to the kid. "Somethings not right."

The support person raised a single finger to Hayes, indicating one minute until the rear of the plane would open, and they would parachute into the Sulu Sea along with a rubber craft which they would inflate after landing in the water.

"Don't have time now. Later." Jason hated not being able to check on the kid, but their mission demanded his full attention. He already had Sonny to contend with. Quinn was rocking his shark repellant wristband, and none of them had the heart to tell him it was useless.

Sonny was the third to notice, and when Clay slumped in his seat, he shouted over to Blackburn who was watching support push the cargo chute into position to be launched out before they jumped, "Poster boy passed out … check on him." It was all he could say before the back began opening and he assumed his place in line with the others.

His shark phobia wiped from his mind as Sonny wondered what caused Clay to blackout. Blackburn's and Jason's decision to keep the kid in ops appeared to the right one, though he almost spoke up and threw his support behind Spenser when his brother demanded to be allowed to go. As he stepped off into nothing but air, a thought came to him. _Nah, it couldn't be … well maybe. Damn, I hope he isn't afraid of parachuting, though after Brian's death and Clay's own near-death incident and what happened to our brother afterward it would make sense._

Eric turned in his seat and focused on Spenser, concern increasing, and his decision validated as he peered at the limp form. He took Clay's pulse, finding the pace rapid … too fast. He checked to make sure the seal on the oxygen mask was tight, and the air was flowing. Men had passed out before when a line had been crimped or had a pinhole in it.

Finding neither to be an issue, Eric kept his fingers on Clay's wrist, marking the slow reduction in his pulse rate. Doc Irving caught his eye, and he shook his head at his questioning mien. Whatever the cause they would have to wait until the back door closed and the interior pressurized before the doc could come over to assess further.

* * *

 _ **Somewhere in the Sulu Sea**_

Katie huddled at the bottom of the dingy. She woke briefly as she was set adrift before sunset. She watched at the trawler motored away, her body wracked with weak coughs. Trying to remain positive, she let her mind focus on the goods times in her life.

The days she spent training with her squad and their successful missions. Growing up on her grandparent's station, learning to fly the helo, shoot, surf, and take care of wounds. Every time Pops came home on leave and hugged her like she was the most precious person in the world. And Clay … the one man who truly understood how deeply she desired to be in SAS because he possessed the same desire to serve his country as a SEAL.

Her mind settled on their kisses … and more intimate forays, both enjoying giving one another pleasure. Shifting she recalled the last time she was adrift in the ocean. At least this time she was in a little boat and didn't need to swim over a mile to reach a beach … though now she had no idea where she was or how far land might be or in what direction.

Clay's perseverance filtered into her memories. The injured SEAL never gave up … he used every remaining ounce of his strength to make it to the shore of North Keeling Island. His action to save her life were swift on the Karnivorious Kookaburra. He was physically harder and mentally stronger than the enemy they faced, and he was the reason they accomplished their mission … he found the Dilberts.

Staring up at the inky black sky filled with stars, she selected one and smiled as Clay's bright smile and laughter came to mind. Her voice hoarse and weak, Katie said, "Gonna miss you, Clay. Stay strong when you learn of my death. I'm not sure why they took me or why they put me in this rubber boat.

"I used your persistence as my model to hang on as long as I could." Katie coughed and gasped for air, the tightness of her chest and the pain breathing caused, ended her spoken words. Tears slipped out as she silently and passionately pleaded, _Pops, I tried … I'm sorry … please forgive me. I'm gonna see you before I planned. Please hold me. I'm petrified._

Katie's body shuddered and her eyes closed as her father's arms wrapped around her.

* * *

 _ **Puerto Princesa International Airport – Bravo Team Plane - Havoc**_

Clay paced, mortified for passing out due to a panic attack. When he came around, Doc had been standing over him speaking with Blackburn, and they were already on the fucking ground. Which meant he was out of at least fifteen minutes. No way to hide the fact he had hyperventilated himself into a stupor.

The only saving grace, none of the support team, peered at him with disgust. Well, except for one, but Spencer with a 'c' Clayton, didn't count. He would ignore the pugnacious asshat with a similar name … hell, the same name spelled differently and reversed. What the hell kind of psychedelic world did he live in where weird shit like this happened to him all the damned time?

Lisa glanced over at Clay, concerned about him but allowing him privacy and personal space to deal with whatever caused him to blackout. The fact he was out so long had worried the shit out of all of them, but Doc reassured them he was physically alright. The guys were gonna be pissed to learn the asshat PO Clayton had laughed and called their kid a pussy. They would be informed … most likely by Rob, but also by her once they finished this mission.

Her gaze moved to Blackburn as they waited for Bravo to check in. The man was the personification of leadership. He pinned POS Clayton, yes she added an 's' which changed the meaning from petty officer to piece of shit, with a hard glare that would make most people piss their pants. She was glad Clay had been out during the exchange, he didn't need to put up with any more shit.

As Eric took a seat next to her, he said, "They should be at the coordinates soon."

Lisa nodded. "Yeah." She stole another glance at Clay. "Thanks for putting the POS in his place. I can't stand the guy. Wanted to punch him for what he said about Clay."

Eric grimaced. "To be perfectly honest, me too."

A laugh emitted from Mandy as she gazed at both. "Add me to the list. Can't you transfer the pitiful jerk?"

"Might be necessary to save his sorry ass once the boys hear what he said."

"Havoc, Bravo One, passing Howler."

"Copy, passing Howler," Eric responded and marked off the first mission step which meant the team successfully inflated their rubber craft and attached the electric motor which would propel them to the coordinates they expected to find the trawler anchored.

Sonny had suggested Pound Puppies names after he caught Clay in the dayroom of the barracks in Perth watching the kid's cartoon. They all had a good laugh at the kid's expense … something which at the moment, he wished he could take back. He had never seen Clay so upset before, and Doc's whispered 'he suffered a panic attack,' possibly put Clay's days as an operator at risk.

What he wanted to know, but would have to wait until later to find out, is what prompted the paralyzing attack because nothing in Clay's previous behavior ever indicated this might be a problem. Though to be honest, the kid had gone through hell, and with his father psychotic actions … it would not be farfetched to assume Clay might be suffering from PTSD.

Though for now, like he told Clay in the briefing room before they left Perth, everyone needed to focus on the mission at hand … himself included.

Clay halted in his pacing as Jason reported in the first step. He pushed down his personal issues and refocused. Though he was of little use in Havoc, another set of eyes on the satellite and drone feeds might prove helpful … he would do anything to help his brothers and to save Katie.

He took a seat next to Lisa. "Which one do you want me to monitor?"

Pleased Clay settled down, Lisa pointed to one of the laptops. "Take the drone feed."

.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 4**  
 **Possibilities and Probabilities**

 **Sulu Sea – Bravo's Boat**

Sonny sat in the bow of the zodiac, eyes peeled, scanning for any sign of the trawler which should be anchored somewhere in this vicinity. Their flight time from Perth, and parachuting far enough away not to be detected, put them behind the proverbial eight ball. Although the last satellite image indicated it moved from the original location, it had stopped before they jumped and hadn't moved since or Havoc would've communicated a new position to them.

"Jace?" Sonny ventured.

"Yeah?" Jason wondered if Quinn was gonna start griping about swimming with sharks again.

"The kid … he's never panicked before and what I saw was definitely panic. Ya think he might be afraid of parachuting?" Sonny voiced his concern, knowing here would be the most private discussion place they would get for some time.

"Possible." Jason didn't want to assign a reason without talking to Spenser.

"Probable," Brock spoke up.

Ray eyed their normally quietest member as he manned the rudder of the silent-running electric motor. "Why do you say probable?"

Brock shifted and shrugged. "Put the piece together. Brian dies jumping, he nearly dies in the same manner and then endured ungodly pain after getting hung up in trees. He's gonna need our help to get past his fear … and we can't let this get on his official record, someone will call it PTSD, and it will be the end of his career."

"How do you suggest we help?" Jason changed his mind about the discussion. His kept scanning the horizon as he waited for a response.

"Perhaps desensitizing him as I did with Cerb. The pup hated parachute jumps at first. With patience and repeated exposure, he learned to enjoy it, and now when his special jump mask comes out, he eagerly waits for me to put it on, ready and raring to go." Though Cerb eyed him tonight as if pouting because he wouldn't be coming, Brock was glad Cerberus was on the plane with Clay, their kid could use the comfort their canine provided.

"Like Pavlov's dogs." Sonny chuckled.

"Something like that," Brock chuckled too.

A pinpoint light bobbing in the distance caught Jason's attention. "Found em." Keying his comms, Jason reported, "Havoc base, passing Scrounger."

"Good copy, passing Scrounger," Blackburn replied.

All talk of Clay stopped as the operators prepared to go into the water for a stealth approach. Paxton, the only support team member to jump with Bravo, would remain in the boat. Tipping backward over the sides, Jason, Ray, Sonny, Trent, and Brock began their swim.

* * *

 _ **Puerto Princesa International Airport – Havoc**_

Lisa shifted her gaze to the drone feed as she said, "Satellite feed will return in thirty minutes. The drone has another hour on site before we lose it."

"With any luck, the boys will have Kilpatrick before the satellite returns." Eric rolled his head, stretching his neck. Although he understood the satellite must continue its regular security pass, he disliked losing the visibility it provided, but at least they had the drone overhead.

Clay's eyes never left the feed on the monitor, but his hand unconsciously petted Cerb who sat next to him. He wanted to be there with them, sitting on the sidelines made him peevish, and he wished to be the first face Katie saw. Hang on Katie, my brothers are coming for you … won't be long now.

* * *

 _ **San Diego – Pirate's Cove Pub**_

Ash sat in the back, corner booth with his laptop open, nursing a whiskey sour. He checked his watch and grinned. Although early by most people's standards, drinking at ten in the morning didn't faze Ash … he figured it was five o'clock somewhere, and it was one a.m. in the Philippines … though he never did care when he drank given what his life was like as an operator.

He missed those days … out there kicking ass. He lifted his tumbler and made a soft toast to himself, "My footprints will remain, and yours will fade in the shadow of my legacy. No one will remember you … only me." He knocked back the remainder of his glass and waved to the barmaid to bring him another.

As he waited, he watched the feed with delight, hoping for a glimpse of his son as the SEALs climbed over the side of the trawler, to be certain he never made it home. The lighting was dim so it would be difficult to make out one from another … well, not really.

After studying Bravo's physiques, Ash found four of the six were distinguishable. Hayes was tall and broad. Sawyer, the medic, was of similar height, but his beard was fuller than Hayes. Reynolds was tall too, but lankier. Quinn was the bulkiest, and easily identifiable. Clay and Perry were closer in body build and when jocked up the hardest to differentiate.

Counting as the men boarded, his face screwed up when he got to five. "Where the hell is the sixth?" He scanned and only found one which could be either Perry or his son. Anger started to build, but a familiar voice caught him off-guard, and he flipped the lid down on the laptop, pissed off he would miss the action.

"Hey, surprised to recognize a face in this joint," Paul Barker strolled over to the table.

"Paul, what are you doing in this neck of the woods?" Ash asked, hiding his contempt for his presumptuous, old teammate. One who dared to tell him he should give up the life of an operator and be home for his son after Clay's mother died. He also had the impunity to add how much he would regret missing out on so much of his son's childhood. Paul didn't know shit, and it was none of Barker's damned business. Luckily, Paul retired from the teams shortly thereafter, or he would've likely punched the shit out of him if he ever made the suggestion again.

"Moved here to be closer to my son and grandchildren. Working as a paramedic … part-time, allows me to spend time with the tikes. My boy manages the bar, and today I brought the kids by for Paul Jr. to take to the park for an early lunch. What about you?" Without being asked, Paul Sr. slid into the opposite side of the booth.

"Book reading and signing tour. My publisher wants me out in the public eye with the pending release of my second book."

Paul hid his cringe. Ash had rightly been PNG's. His books shed light on tactics and events that should remain cloaked for the safety of all operators, past, present, and future. "A second one, huh?"

"Yeah, got some great stories." Ash couldn't resist besmirching Clay's name, but in a roundabout way make it seem he was a proud father. "Got a close source on Bravo Team … real close if you catch my drift … willing to provide me details of missions and access too."

"Really? Career limiting for whoever is dishing if they are found out … possibly treasonous. Perhaps you shouldn't go beyond your own experiences."

Ash itched to watch the action unfold, he would play the grieving father later, but he lifted the laptop's lid and said in a hushed tone. "Wanna see a team in action?" He turned it to face the wall, but both could view the monitor. "Not sure where they are, but they are on a rescue mission."

Paul's eyes widened as he viewed the screen. "What the hell? Who would go so far as to grant you access like this?" As he watched a team search what appeared to be some sort of ship, something seemed off to him, though for the life of him he couldn't latch onto the anomaly.

"Well, I shouldn't name my source … but I'll give you a hint … the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Clay? Your son always wanted to be a SEAL just like you. My god, are you saying little Clay achieved his dream and made it to DEVGRU?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny." Ash grinned letting his eyes answer with pretend pride.

Paul's gaze returned to the monitor, engrossed in the footage. Though he lost touch with most of the team guys after he retired, he on occasion wondered what happened with the lonely, tow-headed boy he witnessed at his mother's funeral. He urged Ash to make Clay his priority, but Ash shipped the grieving boy off to the grandparents to raise anyway. _Possibly I was wrong, especially if Clay became an operator like his old man. Maybe Ash developed a decent relationship with the kid after all._

* * *

 _ **Sulu Sea – Dingy**_

Trembling, Katie opened her eyes and stared into the face of her dad. _Don't leave me, Pops, don't go._

 _"Katie, my girl, I'm here. Not going anywhere. You need to stay awake though. It's important. No sleeping, sweetheart."_ Peter Kilpatrick urged his only child.

Shallow, painful, weak breaths quickened. _Pops, I'm cold, so cold. Hurts to breathe._

 _"I know. Try to slow it down and inhale deeper … like I taught you."_ Peter held his beautiful girl in his arms, praying she could hold on until help arrived.

 _Sniper breathing … I remember._ Katie's eyes shifted to the left as a beautiful woman who somewhat resembled her appeared. She possessed the same wheat-blond hair color, but her eyes were a different shade. A recollection from an old photo sitting prominently on the mantle at her grandparents' home popped in. _Mom … Mommy._

 _"Yes, princess. I'm here too."_ Katie's mother knelt and reached out a hand to caress her precious daughter's cheek. _"We'll stay with you until they come. Believe in them as heartily as you did in unicorns when you were a little girl. You are your father's daughter, shows us what you inherited, let's see some of his pig-headedness. You possess the grit needed to survive."_

Katie dug deep even as coughs weakened her body more. _I will persevere. I am my parents' daughter!_ Her eyes slipped closed, but Katie forced them to open again … something told it was necessary to remain awake.

* * *

 _ **Sulu Sea – Fishing Trawler**_

Sonny and Brock searched the lowest level of the large trawler. They moved through two freezer holds, a processing hold, the fish bin, before moving into the bowels of the ship to search the engine room, auxiliary machinery space, and the rudder room. Ray, Jason, and Trent concentrated on the upper level which contained crew quarters, wheelhouse, mess, and galley. So far, none of the team had found a single person.

Gun at the ready, Sonny reached for the door as he said, "Freaking ghost ships give me the creeps."

Brock only grinned. Sonny's griping was par for the course. He followed Sonny into the room, hoping to locate Katie, even though the lack of people set his sense of danger to red level.

As they moved through the room, which appeared empty like the previous rooms, Sonny spotted something of note. He knelt and examined the chain locked to a pipe. "Boss, found a chain with a manacle attached in the engine room. There is a little dried blood on the ground. Someone's been shackled here at one point."

"Copy. We located a room with a chain as well … stale half-eaten peanut butter sandwich too. The pirates are known to feed their prisoners, so it appears we are in the right place." Jason peered at his 2IC who stood near the bunk. "Wonder why they left?"

Ray spied small scratches on the wall next to the bed. "I think someone was tracking days." His gaze moved to the pillow and noted several strands of hair. "Blonde … about the color and length of Katie's hair. She may have been here."

Having checked the pilot house, Trent returned to Jason's position. "Nothing above. Smells like a trap to me … only reason they would desert the trawler."

Jason nodded. "Bravo Three, we're done on these levels. Finish up, and meet us topside."

"Copy." Sonny and Brock continued through the twists and turns of the engine room, making their way to the mechanical space.

"Havoc, Bravo One."

"Go ahead."

Jason followed Ray and Trent as they entered the narrow passageway to return to the deck. "No sign of Tangos or Bright Eyes onboard. This makes no sense … did we miss another boat?"

Lisa responded, "Could've happened in the short window where we didn't have the drone in place, and the satellite blipped."

While Jason spoke to Eric and Mandy to determine what they missed and the next step, Brock opened the last door, the one to the rudder room, after clearing the mechanical area. He came to a halt and Sonny pushed him forward.

The gruff Texan took one look at what caused Brock to stop. The windowless area was lit with a single bulb which illuminated the photo of Katie taped to the wall next to a message written in red paint … or at least he hoped to hell it was paint and not Katie's blood.

Sonny grabbed Brock's vest, pivoted him, and shoved him out the door. "RUN!" He followed hot on Brock's heels as he pressed his comms. "GET OFF THE BOAT. NOW! DIVE, SWIM THE FUCK AWAY."

"Three?"

Boots slamming on metal came with Sonny's next words. "IT'S A TRAP. JUMP OFF THE DAMNED TRAWLER, NOW!"

Without hesitation, the three men topside did as their teammate instructed, dove in and started swimming away as fast as possible. They worked together long enough not to question when one of them deemed their lives were in danger, even if they didn't have time to fully explain.

Reaching the deck, Sonny and Brock raced for the railing. Both landed a boot on a crate near the edge, ready to dive as successive explosions ripped the trawler apart. The concussion wave threw them into the air like rag dolls as metal shards and flames licked their bodies. Brock hit the water first, followed by Sonny and both sank.

Witnessing their brothers smack the surface and disappear prompted Jason, Trent, and Ray to reverse course and swim towards the rain of metal, all three diving to locate their unconscious brothers.

.

* * *

 **CHAPTER** 5  
 **Let Me Not Prove Unworthy of My Brothers**

 _ **Puerto Princesa International Airport – Havoc**_

Clay stood abruptly, knocking his chair over as the entire screen filled with white … the flash of the explosion so large nothing else was visible. Shock reverberated through his body as it did through Lisa, Eric, and Mandy. _God no! Not my brothers!_

Blackburn tensed for only one moment before he went into action, ordering the QRT to go. He had arranged for one helo for evac should they find Kilpatrick in need of emergency medical treatment, and his foresight would now be put in action for his men. When Clay turned and raced after Rob who would be leading the QRT he barked, "Where do you think you're going, Spenser?"

Pivoting, Clay bit back. "With them."

"You're not cleared for the field," Eric said as he strode towards Clay.

"I'm going!" Clay pointed to the monitor as he ground out, "My fucking father just blew up my brothers. Nothing you say can make me stay."

"Court-martial for insubordination." Eric stood his ground as in the background Lisa tried unsuccessfully to establish contact with Bravo One. Jason would have a fit if he allowed Clay to go, though he understood why Clay wanted to.

"Fine, whatever. Do what you must … when I return. I will not leave my brothers." Blue eyes blazed with passion and conviction as Clay stared at Blackburn a moment longer. He turned on a dime and grabbed the extra medkit Trent kept on the plane … they were gonna need it … god, he hoped they needed it and not the body bags.

Clay jogged down the ramp following the five support team members, still somewhat surprised Blackburn didn't physically restrain him. Though, in truth, there was no one except the lieutenant commander himself left in the plane who was even remotely capable of hindering him. And with the way he felt at the moment, punching his CO if he tried to stop him would be the likely outcome.

As Eric watched the retreating figure, a flash of a young Jason Hayes came to mind, and he let out a sigh. If the kid had been under anyone else's command, Clay wouldn't have been in the Philippines. Clay was only here because Jason insisted he come. If Spenser managed to survive, one day he would be a Master Chief running his own team, and be a force to be reckoned with, just like Hayes.

Worried by what occurred to the trawler and Blackburn's words to Clay, Lisa shot Eric a glance. "You gonna court-martial him?"

Eric raked a hand through his hair. "Depends. If Jason doesn't kill the kid or me …" He had no intention of following through and wished he had not let that come out of his mouth in the first place. Refocusing on the screen, Eric asked, "How long until QRT reaches them?"

"About twenty mikes, but Paxton will arrive in five mikes." Lisa let out a shaky breath as her eyes searched for any indication of her boys in the water, but especially Sonny. Her heart had seized when Sonny told the team to get off the boat. She wondered what he saw that clued him into the danger.

* * *

 _ **San Diego – Pirate's Cove Pub**_

"Holy Shit!" Paul gaped as the last image he saw cut out, one of two SEALs preparing to dive off the boat. His gaze shifted to Ash, concerned the man might've just witnessed the death of his son. He drew in a breath and released it gradually as he observed Spenser shut his eyes and bow his head. "Was … is your …" he couldn't bring himself to finish the question.

With pleasure surging inside, Ash maintained a stoic exterior. He would draw on his vast experience of not showing emotion because team guys were made of petrified wood … rock solid. Ready to play his part of a grieving parent, he lifted his eyelids, met Paul's gaze, and answered the unasked query. "He followed in my footsteps … if he didn't make it, then he died doing what he loved. As a team guy, you understand."

Paul nodded. The lack of emotion shown by Ash unsettled him. If it were his son he just watched possibly blown up, he would be a wreck … it was his kid after all … and Clay was Spenser's only child. "If you need anything … anything at all."

Ash downed his whiskey sour, flagged the server down, and ordered another one. "Just gonna sit here and drink." _Time to celebrate my success … or at least partial success._

Paul ordered a beer, though it was too early in the day to be drinking for him. He would sit here with Ash while his former teammate drowned his worry with alcohol. Paul chalked up Ash's reaction to normal behavior given the situation.

Once the drinks were delivered, Ash raised his glass and so did Paul, as Ash said, "To those before us. To those amongst us. To those we'll see on the other side."

* * *

 _ **Helo En Route to Bravo**_

Clay slowed his breathing and kept his eyes focused out at the sea as he silently prayed. Lord, let me not prove unworthy of my brothers.

Spencer eyed his reverse namesake with derision. He overheard Blackburn, hell they all did, but here sat the royal pussy who disregarded a direct order. He couldn't wait for him to be court-martialed. Perhaps he could wrangle the open spot once the pathetic excuse for a SEAL was gone.

He fully believed Clay Spenser was the curse of Bravo. Ever since the rookie joined, shit continued to happen. He imagined Hayes and the others were sick of having to always save the idiot and putting them all at risk. Hell, this whole situation proved he was cursed, and it might just be the death of five good sailors.

"Bet you're proud of yourself, fuckup … I'll celebrate the end of your career," Spencer sneered loud enough for Clay to hear him.

When Clay didn't respond, and Spencer opened his mouth to make another snide remark, Rob who was on the opposite side of him replied, "Shut your pie-hole, Spencer."

Preoccupied with planning the best strategy for rescuing his brothers, Clay only caught Rob said something but not his content. "What?"

"Not you … the other Spencer needs to keep his petty and pointless commentary to himself."

Clay peered at Spencer. "What did you say?"

"You heard me?"

"No, wasn't paying attention to you."

The dark-haired Spencer glared at the dirty-blond Clay. "Hope Blackburn does court-martial you for defying a direct order."

Before Clay could respond, Rob jumped in. "He gave no order."

"The hell he didn't. Blackburn told him not to go," Spencer declared.

"Clean the shit out of your ears. He asked where Clay was going. Big difference." Rob began to lose his patience with Spencer. The man never knew when to curb his preposterous and prejudiced comments.

"He's not even cleared to be in the field. He's gonna get one of us killed saving his ass."

Clay raised an eyebrow but turned his eyes toward the sea again, choosing not to get into the fray … his mind on more important matters. Getting his injured brothers in the helo would be tricky, he hoped the pilot would be able to hover steadily as they hauled them in. It would be a tight fit in this helo for twelve men, especially if more than one had to lay flat.

Rob realized Clay was ignoring Spencer and he didn't blame him one damned bit, now was not the time for any sort of pissing match. As the leader of the support team, it was his job to put Spencer in his place. "I'm only going to say this once … get your mind on the mission and keep your personal opinions to yourself or there will be hell to pay."

Pissed off, but obeying his leader, Spencer clamped his jaw shut.

* * *

 _ **Sulu Sea – Dingy**_

The initial flash of light was followed by sounds Katie recognized. An explosion. With enormous effort, she hauled herself up on the edge of the little two-person dingy. Her eyes found a glow on the horizon. _Is that the boat I was on? Why did it explode?_

Her mind shelved those thoughts when another entered. _Koala … my squad came … but I'm not there … they won't find me out here._ Tears filled her eyes. So close, yet so far.

As she fell to the bottom, unable to prop herself up any longer, Katie curled into a ball as a coughing fit overtook her.

 _"Katie, my girl, breathe."_ Peter Kilpatrick wished he had solid form so his daughter could actually feel his presence and he could paddle her closer to the trawler. But he didn't so he did the next best thing … keep her awake, until help arrived. If she slipped off to sleep now, she would miss her opportunity to alert them of her location.

 _Pops, … they came, but they won't find me._ Katie rolled to her back as her hacking subsided. Her hand reached for something sticking into her back. She pulled the long cylindrical object to her front and brought it closer to her face. Running a hand up and down the item, she noted a plastic cap. _Pops, … Pops, … I found a flare._

 _"Yes, and you must stay awake to use it at the right time."_ Peter caressed her hair.

* * *

 _ **Sulu Sea – Near Burning Fishing Trawler**_

After Three and Five were thrown off the trawler by the blast and sank, the other three located Sonny first and hauled him to the surface. It took four dives to find their other brother, the delay resulted in an insensible Brock inhaling water.

Now Jason bobbed up and down as he held an unconscious Sonny, who luckily was breathing on his own as he peered over at Ray who kept Brock afloat while Trent performed mouth to mouth and chest compressions. Providing life-giving treatment while treading water sucked. They needed to get Brock and Sonny out of the sea so Trent and Ray could work on Brock and he could check Sonny for wounds.

Scanning the ensuing debris field, Jason pressed his comms to contact the person who could get to them the fastest. "Support Four, Bravo One."

"Almost there, two mikes," Paxton reported. "Havoc spun up QRT. They're fifteen to twenty mikes out."

"Copy. Havoc, Bravo One."

Eric took over the mic. "Go ahead, One, sitrep."

"Two men down. Five isn't breathing. Three is unconscious, unsure of injuries," Jason reported.

"What about you and the other two?"

"No time to check." Jason refused to acknowledge the stinging in his shoulder, arm, and leg. He assumed Ray and Trent both had a few wounds too with as much metal rained down on them when they dove for Sonny and Brock. Whatever their wounds, they were inconsequential at the moment. "This was a trap … enough explosives to sink the trawler, which it is doing slowly."

Eric nodded. He hated the idea his men had been lured to potential death … and two might still be in jeopardy of such a result. "Copy. Mandy is working on that … you focus on keeping our boys alive." He cringed, but decided Jason needed to be made aware, "Bravo Six is with QRT."

"Whiskey Tango Foxtrot? He's not cleared for the field!" Jason's gaze met Ray's and silently communicated he was going to have one hell of a talk with Spenser when they were all safe. The kid had no business joining QRT. Clay was grounded to Ops … something Jason made abundantly clear to the kid as Doc removed Clay's stitches during the flight. Yes, Clay was healed physically, but his mindset wasn't right with the shit Ashhole was putting him through.

"No stopping him. We'll deal with that later too." Eric leaned on one of the crates in the center of the plane.

Noting the zodiac arriving, Jason said, "Support Four is here. Will relay update soon."

"Copy." Eric's eyes stayed on the drone feed as he waited on pins and needles to find out how badly Quinn and Reynolds had been hurt.

Paxton killed the motor and reached over the side to pull Sonny in albeit Jason indicated their canine handler was in the most distress. He realized Jason would be mad with his decision, but with Sonny aboard and safe, he would be able to resume CPR on Brock once he had him flat on the floor, and Trent could take over once on board. Paxton grabbed ahold of Sonny, forcing a glaring Jason to let go and hauled him in. Next, he retrieved Brock and initiated CPR, leaving the able-bodied SEALs to pull themselves in.

Once Trent boarded, he knelt by Brock and took over, as Jason and Ray went to help Sonny. Refusing to lose Brock, Trent lifted his arm and fisted his hand, coming down hard, pummeling Brock's chest. "Breathe dammit! Don't you dare die on me! Cerb will be pissed off."

Brock's coughing and spitting up water was music to their ears. Somewhat relieved, Trent rolled his buddy to his side so he wouldn't aspirate. "Get a neck brace on each of them. I'm not sure if there are spinal injuries."

Paxton opened the meds kit which had been stowed on the boat and assisted Hayes with Quinn as Perry and Sawyer continued to treat Reynolds. Minimal words flew between the four men as they stabilized their brothers for transport which couldn't get here soon enough.

Twelve minutes later the helo hovered above, and Clay was the first to drop into the sea, followed by Rob, they secured lines to the boat, and a stokes cage was lowered. As Clay hung onto the side, he almost cringed at the glare Jason sent his way, but he would take whatever punishment his leader dished out for defying his order to remain in Ops because he needed to be here.

Once Brock was pulled up, the cage was lowered again for Sonny who remained unconscious. As the guys in the helo hoisted Quinn aboard, Clay hauled himself over the side and into the zodiac. With the light shining down from above, Clay noted blood dripping from Ray's fingertips and went into action.

"Where are you hit?" Clay asked, and the glazed eyes of his 2IC told him he was about to pass out.

Spent, all adrenaline gone, the pain in Ray's arm became known to him at the same time he became lightheaded. When Clay spoke to him, he started to answer, but his lights went out, and he keeled over.

"SHIT!" Clay caught Ray before he ended up in the water. He searched his arm and found a long, deep laceration. Using a pressure bandage, he wrapped it tight as he said, "Ray's next up. He's lost a lot of blood."

Exhausted, his own pains becoming noticeable, Trent only nodded and allowed the kid to direct things. They all had essential field first aid down pat, but he had gone further and provided additional training to all of them, so he was comfortable with Clay treating them.

After he had Ray sorted out and with the help of Rob, got him in the stokes when it was sent down again, Clay turned his attention to Trent and Jason. He understood these two men well … both would tell him to treat the other first, Jason because he was the leader and Trent because he was the medic. So instead of asking, who was in worse shape, Clay did his own visual inspection, relieved to find neither suffered severe wounds.

"Trent, you're up next." When their medic started to balk, Clay added, "Don't argue, the guys need you up there."

Jason held back his grin … Clay appeared to be in prime form, and he allowed him to take charge. Drained from his exertions, he sat on the edge of the boat as Clay and Rob secured Trent to a line. His gaze drifted to the trawler as the last vestige of the gantry slipped beneath the waves. They were all alive because of Sonny's warning. He wondered what tipped him off because if he had seen a bomb, he would've communicated that bit of detail in his warning.

Clay moved to Jason and noted the fatigue. "I'm sorry."

Moving his gaze to Spenser, Jason asked, "For what?"

"This! You guys being blown up."

He reached out a hand and placed it on Clay's shoulder. "Get one thing straight. This. Isn't. Your. Fault."

"The hell it isn't … we both know who is behind this."

"Still not your fault. If Ashhole set this up, he is responsible … and if he didn't, then whoever took Katie is to blame."

At the mention of Katie, Clay's eyes dropped. "She wasn't here."

"No, but we'll find her. I promi—"

"You can't promise. No one can. We thought she was here." Clay's heart seized. He lost so many people in his life, and he didn't want to lose Katie too, but the odds were not in her favor at this point.

"They probably took her with them … Mandy will continue to search." The rope coming down again stopped further conversation. Jason let Clay secure him, and the men above haul him up. His head throbbed, mostly from tension. He hated seeing the defeat in the kid's eyes.

Paxton and Rob went up next carrying all the gear packs leaving Clay to scuttle the rubber craft since there was no room in the helicopter to take it with them. As he reached the helo, Clay noted both Sonny and Brock laid out flat on the floor with Trent between them. Everyone else was crammed in tight, so he took a seat on the very edge of the opening with his legs hanging outside and hooked himself into a secure line.

As the pilot gained altitude, Clay scanned the inky black horizon as he listened to Jason reporting to Blackburn, letting him know that everyone survived and the lieutenant commander telling Jason medical assistance would meet them when they landed.

Although happy all his brothers lived, though banged up a bit, Clay's mood plummeted when his thoughts returned to Katie and Ash. He would do all in his power to prove his father's involvement and ensure he paid for harming the people he loved. He sighed, and said, "Where are you, Katie?"

* * *

 _ **Sulu Sea – Dingy**_

A familiar whoop-whoop sound met Katie's ears and caused her to open her eyes. With her last bit of energy, she activated the flare.

.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 6  
We Got One Helluva Problem**

 **Helo**

A flash of orange caught Clay's attention. The glow illuminated a little dingy with one body in it. Mandy's briefing on the pirates popped into his head. _They set their prisoners adrift in an inflatable dingy and provided coordinates._ Clay's gut told him it was Katie even if from this distance he couldn't distinguish the person's features or gender.

"That's Katie. We need to get her," Clay pointed in the direction as he turned pleading eyes to Jason.

Jason opened his eyes, his head pounding with a ferocious beat and he peered off in the direction Clay indicated. He didn't know if it was Kilpatrick, one of the pirates, or just some unfortunate soul in the middle of the Sulu Sea, but it didn't matter. In good conscience, he couldn't leave anyone out here in that. And if not Katie, if the person was one of the people from the trawler, Mandy would be able to interrogate them and perhaps find a lead on Katie.

He grabbed one of the headsets to communicate with the Filipino pilot. "We have another person to rescue."

Captain Parrilla of the Philippine Coast Guard responded, "We are low on fuel after hovering to pull you all in, and I am already at my max weight limit. I'll mark the coordinates, and after refueling, we can return."

"It's only a half mile! Deviate now," Jason barked.

"You have no authority over me. My helicopter, my decision," Parrilla retorted.

Clay didn't need a headset to overhear the pilot because the man yelled his response. "It's Katie … I'm not leaving her out here alone."

"I can't order him … sorry. We'll come right back," Jason wanted to wring the pilot's neck, and might after the second trip.

As the helo continued on its path, away from the orange light, Clay made a decision which would earn him years' worth of running hills, but just like he had to come to rescue his brothers, he refused to abandon Katie. Without hesitation, before anyone could stop him, Clay unhooked himself and jumped from the helo, figuring the drop was no more than when he leapt from the GOPLAT.

"SHIT!" Jason yelled as Clay dropped. He shifted, intending to go with him, but before he could squeeze out from between Rob and an unconscious Ray, Trent grabbed a medkit and leaped out. "HOLY HELL!" Jason peered out the door as he shouted in the headset, "Two men overboard. We need to get them back."

"I told you I don't have enough fuel," Parrilla shouted back.

Jason keyed his comms. "Havoc, Bravo One. We got one helluva problem."

"Explain." Eric didn't like Jason's tone … it indicated he wouldn't like what he would hear.

"Spotted a dingy when a flare was shot off. Six believes it is Bright Eyes." He went on to explain what occurred then said, "Any way to get another helo in the air?"

"Negative. Had a hell of a time getting one. I'll see what I can do on this end. Give me the coordinates, and we'll redirect the drone there until it must return." As Jason relayed the position, Eric noted Davis typing in the new coordinates.

Jason watched his two men swimming toward the dingy until he couldn't see them anymore. He raked both hands through his hair, squeezing his head, hoping to keep his brain from exploding. _The kid is gonna pay big time for his peremptory action. And Trent too. What the hell were both of them thinking?_

Spencer Clayton shook his head but wisely kept his thoughts to himself, so he didn't earn the wrath of his team leader. _I'm right. Clay Spenser is the Curse of Bravo and is gonna get someone killed … and that might be Trent. What a fucking idiot to jump into the sea._

* * *

 _ **Sulu Sea – Dingy**_

Almost to the little inflatable raft, Clay still couldn't believe Trent jumped in after him. They exchanged a few quick words as they swam, and he kicked himself for putting Trent at risk, but his gut told him this was Katie, and he couldn't stomach the thought of her being out here alone. In the time it took for the helo to return, the current could make it nearly impossible to locate her and if she didn't have another flare … then she might die before they found her again.

His hand hit the side of the dingy, and he pulled himself up to peer inside. "KATIE!" The light of the moon showed him his friend was in serious trouble. The rattle of her breathing concerned him. He reached in and stroked her hair. "Hang on, Katie."

Thoroughly drained from the swim, and the myriad of small cuts on his arms and legs stinging from the salt water, Trent clung to the rope strung through two tie-down holes. He got his first glimpse of the woman they were searching for as well as the size of the craft. With room for only one more occupant, it would likely to sink if both he and Clay attempted to board.

Clay came to the same conclusion as Trent. "You get in. She needs your help, and you're exhausted. I'll do what I can from here."

Realizing Clay was right, noting the wheezing and shallow breaths coming from Kilpatrick, he hauled himself in without arguing. "Open the bag for me as I shift her more upright, she needs to be reclining so she can breathe easier." He tossed the medkit to Clay and set to positioning Katie.

Opening the waterproof bag, Clay reached for the portable oxygen tank then ripped open a plastic pouch to get a face mask. He attached the tubing, having it all prepared by the time Trent had Katie's head resting on the side near him. "What else do you need?"

As Trent slipped the mask over Katie's nose and mouth, pulled the adjustable straps to tighten them, and started the flow of O2, he said, "Blood pressure cuff and the thermometer. She's burning up, wish I had liquid fever reducer, but all I have are tablets."

Clay pulled out those items and then watched as Trent set to work taking her vitals. His hand brushed her hair, and he spoke softly, "I'm here, Katie. I came. You're going to be alright now. I'm so sorry. I knew my father hated me, but I never thought he would hurt someone I care about."

Trent glanced at Clay and noted the tears in his eyes, but he didn't remark on them. They were justified given what Ashhole had done. And as far as he was concerned, Ashhole needed to get fucked three ways from Sunday … Bravo would make sure the man paid for the shit he was putting Clay through, for kidnapping Katie, and for nearly blowing up him and his brothers.

 _"You did well, Katie, my girl."_ Peter smiled as the two brave SEALs helped his daughter. When they leapt from the helo he worried they might drown, but they didn't.

Katie blinked open her eyes. _Pops?_

 _"Time for me to go now. You're safe. I love you, sweetie."_ Peter began to fade leaving his girl in capable hands.

"Don't … leave … me," came out in a weak whisper between shallow breaths as Katie pleaded with her dad to stay.

"Katie, hey, Katie." Clay pulled himself up more on the side and turned her head so she could see him. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

A vision of Clay swam before Katie's eyes. She tried to lift a hand to touch him … wanting her mirage to be real, but something stopped her movement. "Clay?"

"Hold still, Trent is starting an IV." Clay caressed her cheek.

The cool fingers on her face and the pinch on her arm confused Katie. "Real?"

"As real as you can get," Trent said as he taped the line to Katie's arm and started the saline solution on the dehydrated soldier.

Katie's gaze flicked to her hand and then landed on Trent before returning to Clay. "Really … here?"

"Yes. Just rest and remain strong a little longer. I'm so glad you sent up the flare … I would've missed you without it," Clay's voice choked with emotion.

"Flare?" Katie's lids lowered.

"Hey, hey, stay with me, open your eyes," Clay urged.

Trent tore the plastic off an emergency blanket to put over Kilpatrick. "It's okay, Clay. Her pulse is strong … she is just wiped out from breathing."

"What's wrong?" Clay kept his hand on her head, needing the physical contact to assure himself she was real too.

"Most likely pneumonia given her respiration. Treatable once we get her to a hospital. She's a fighter. She'll make it now with the proper care." Trent sat back on his heels. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. What about you? You're the one who isn't in prime shape at the moment."

Trent chuckled and then eyed Clay. "Jason's gonna have our asses hanging from the wall for this stunt."

Clay grinned. "Don't care if I have to run hills for the rest of my days. I was right, it was Katie. Not leaving her alone out here was the right call."

Nodding, Trent said, "That might be the only thing to save us from Jason's wrath. Especially when I tell him she probably would've died before we returned. Forty minutes is a long time."

His brows drew together with deep concern as Clay asked, "Would she have died?"

Trent blew out a long breath. "Perhaps … she needed oxygen. Damn glad someone had the foresight to bring my secondary bag otherwise it would've been touch and go."

Caressing Katie's hair, Clay smiled, happy he had grabbed Trent's bag. "Thought it might be needed to treat one of you guys."

"You brought it?"

"Yeah. Man, Blackburn is pissed at me. He might follow through on his threat to court-martial me for insubordination. But it was worth it, and I'd make the same choice every damned time."

His mouth gaped as he stared at the kid. "Blackburn threatened you with that, and you still came?"

Clay nodded. "My brothers needed me. I will never abandon any of you, no matter the personal cost. You've all been there for me every damned time … pulling my ass out of the fire and pushing me during rehab. Adam was right when he told me the team is my family …" Clay blew out a long breath, "and I will go to any lengths necessary to protect every one of you."

"Well, I'll back your decision," Trent declared.

They lapsed into silence for several minutes as each contemplated the possible repercussions of their actions, but not regretting them in the least. When Trent moved to recheck Katie's vitals, Clay tried to raise Havoc or Jason to give them a sitrep. Unfortunately, he couldn't reach either … comms were down.

* * *

 _ **Seven Hours Later – Bravo Team Plane**_

Clay sat between the gurney's holding Sonny and Katie, his face stricken and pale, as he peered across the way at Brock as their plane flew back to Perth. In all the hours he had been sitting here, not a single soul spoke to him. Dr. Irving decided it was best to return to Australia for proper treatment for his patients and Blackburn made that happen.

When Jason pulled him aboard the helo, Clay only received a 'not now' comment. Since then no one said a word to him. And Cerb shunned him … well, if he was honest, Cerb was focusing on Brock and wouldn't leave his side, not even the doctor could get the pup to move, and Jason refused to make Cerb go to his cage.

He let out a shaky breath and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders to ward off the bone-deep chill. Yeah, he fucked up, and it looked like Jason wanted to make him suffer for his choice. He glanced over at the fourth gurney where Trent slept. His brother came with him, and it almost ended his life.

That might be a bit melodramatic, but that's how Clay felt about the situation since everything was his fault, including the deflated dingy. When he shifted on the side, something caught and ripped a hole in the cheap plastic. They barely had time to stow the medical supplies, grab the emergency flare gun from the kit, and take hold of Katie before the damned craft shriveled into nothing.

Trent had been exhausted before that happened, the reason he told him to get into the little boat, but after treading water for almost ninety minutes, his brother used every last ounce of his energy. For the last twenty minutes of his time in the sea, Clay began to believe his father had won. Holding both Katie and Trent, trying his damnedest to keep all three of them afloat until help came had been his darkest moment.

He believed Ash succeeded in actually drowning him, and killing two people he cared deeply about. When the sound of the helicopter came to his ears, he had to choose which one to release so he could reach the gun. It had been the hardest decision of his life as he positioned Katie on top of Trent, hoping she would stay above water while he fumbled to shoot off the light which would save them.

Katie's head slipped under as he aimed the gun in the air and fired, and when he reached to grab her, he lost hold on Trent, and his brother went under too. Somehow, unsure how, he managed to retrieve both but ended up swallowing several mouthfuls of seawater as waves crashed over his head when he emerged from his dive.

Clay's gaze moved between the four in a clockwise motion, never lingering more than a few moments on each, needing the reassurance of watching their chests rise and fall or in the case of Katie, the oxygen mask fog up with a labored breath. He sat as a silent sentinel, ready to alert Doc if any of his family stopped breathing.

In the front of the plane, Ray stirred and yawned as he shifted up from the seat he lay on to a seated position. The first thing he noticed is that they were in the air, but then he spotted Jason across the aisle, his arms crossed on his chest and head bowed. Sore, his body protesting the change in position, Ray rose slowly intending to sit next to Jason, but his best friend surprised him when his head whipped up.

"Sit your ass down. You are to stay right there. Doctor's orders." Jason had been dozing lightly, but Ray's movement woke him.

"I'm fine." Stinging, throbbing pain in his arm caused him to lift the opposite hand and set it on the injury as he complied with Jason's directive and he noted the IV in his other arm.

"Like hell you are. We almost lost you … the shrapnel nicked an artery in your arm. You've been out for close to seven hours. Why the hell didn't you tell me you were bleeding profusely?" Jason pinned Ray with a hard glare he knew was unwarranted, but his emotions were on a fucking rollercoaster. He bottled everything up inside, unwilling to let loose on Clay whose appearance resembled what Sonny would call the only pound puppy not adopted.

Surprise lit Ray's features. "Adrenaline. Guess I didn't realize the severity … hard to distinguish between dripping blood and water in the dark. Was focused on Brock and Sonny. How are the boys?"

Jason raked both hands through his hair, leaned forward, and then turned his head to the rear of the plane. "Doc says stable. Sonny woke briefly with the mother of all headaches. Irving gave him heavy duty painkillers which knocked him out again. For the best now given everything going on.

"Brock … he sucked in a lot of water. Doc's worried about pulmonary edema and has him on O2. He hasn't woken up yet. Irving stitched up their lacerations, luckily, none too deep or as bad as yours, most of the cuts only required cleaning. Also said their burns are only first degree."

"Minor miracle they made it off in time. Did you ask Sonny what he saw that alerted him?" Ray's eyes shifted to the back and rounded. "Wait! Oh … is that Kilpatrick?"

"No, and yes to answer your questions."

"Trent … what happened to Trent? Tell me he is just resting back there."

"He's resting, yeah, but …" Jason's face ended up in his palms. "Don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do. He jumped out of the helo after Clay when—"

"HE WHAT?!" Ray realized he missed something significant while he was taking a blood-loss-induced nap.

Jason quietly explained the chain of events, and his blood pressure rose again by the time he got to the part where Captain Parrilla insisted on doing a full pre-flight check of his bird and disappeared for an hour to grab something to eat before they took off, by which time the drone was no longer overhead and when they reached the coordinates, the dingy was gone. The flare sent up was the only reason they located the three. Blackburn and Rob had to restrain him to keep him from punching the pilot when they returned from rescuing Trent, Clay, and Katie.

Ray sank back in his chair coming to grips with what the kid did and how Trent followed him out of the helo … and how the fuck Clay managed to keep all three of them afloat until help arrived. "Shit. How's the kid doing after all that?"

Meeting Ray's gaze Jason shook his head. "Not sure. Was too angry at Ash and Parrilla to talk to him … afraid he would interpret my reaction as directed at him. Don't get me wrong, yeah, I'm pissed Clay jumped … correction pissed he had to jump, but none of this is his fault. He is the victim here.

"That prick, Ashhole, is the one who orchestrated all of this. I know it in my gut even if I can't prove it yet. Which we will, and when we do, we are gonna get payback."

"I hear ya, brother. But I don't think not talking to Clay is the best thing … he's likely carrying the full weight of this on his shoulders."

Jason nodded but didn't make any effort to rise.

"Want me to talk to him?" Ray offered.

"No. Just need a few more moments to stow my emotions. Also, not sure what Blackburn intends to do … threatened the kid with a court-martial for insubordination when he left with the QRT."

Eric sat next to Jason. "Nothing. He didn't disobey any orders. Don't know why that came out of my mouth."

Both Ray and Jason stared at the haggard commander, and Ray chuckled as he said, "Kid gets under your skin. Though if it were me, I'd do the same thing as he did."

"Me too," admitted Jason and Eric simultaneously.

"So, you gonna go put him out of his misery now?" Eric asked Jason. He refrained from speaking with Clay, wanting to leave things in Jason's hands since he was the kid's direct CO. He instructed everyone to leave Clay be and not pester him. Davis balked the most, but he explained Bravo needed to sort out internal issues privately without interference, and she backed off. Davis went to work with Mandy and her analyst as they continued to scan satellite imagery trying to piece together where the pirates went since they had to get on another vessel at some point.

A crash at the back of the plane had all three men pivoting their heads in that direction. Jason was on his feet and running before the other two fully registered Clay was sprawled out on the floor.

.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 7**  
 **Post-Immersion Syndrome and The Message**

 _ **Bravo Team Plane**_

The doctor reached Clay before Jason did and turned him on his back. Jason knelt on the opposite side of Doc. "How can I help?"

Irving muttered under his breath as he ran through the ABCs on an unconscious Spenser, ticked off at himself for not checking him over after he got everyone else situated. "Grab me another portable oxygen tank and mask."

Eric said, "I got them," pivoted and rushed off to the doctor's supplies.

"What's wrong?" Jason peered down at the pale face as Doc lifted one eyelid after another and flashed a penlight to check for pupil reactions.

"Undetermined yet, but his respiration is labored. Did he inhale any water during the rescue?" Irving put on his stethoscope to listen to Clay's lungs.

"Not that I'm aware of … but it is possible … he was holding both Kilpatrick and Trent in rough waves," Jason said.

Hearing what he hoped not to hear in Clay's lungs, Irving growled, his professionalism slipping a bit. "Let's get him on a gurney, need him semi-reclined."

"There aren't any more." Eric handed over the oxygen and watched as Jason put the full mask over the kid's nose and mouth and the doctor start the flow.

Unbeknownst to the others, Sonny had woken and silently observed what was taking place on the floor beside him. A Brahma bull raged in his head, but he shifted up to a seated position. "Put him here …"

Sonny staggered, becoming lightheaded as he stood, and Eric grabbed an arm preventing him from faceplanting. Eric noted Ray on the other side of Sonny, not where he was supposed to be. "What is it with you men? No one staying put."

"We're sitting." Ray tugged on Sonny's arm, moving both of them to seats closer to the gurneys where they still had a view of the kid. He lowered Sonny, then sat and hung the saline bag, which was still attached to the IV tubing in his arm, on the webbing next to him. In his rush to the rear of the plane, Ray almost yanked it out when he rose. If he had, Ray would've earned the ire of Blackburn, Jason, and the doctor.

Clay's eyes blinked open, confused to be staring up at the ceiling of the plane with Jason and Doc peering down at him. He gave in to the constant tickle at the back of his throat and coughed. Shivering, he wanted his blanket on and to be sitting on the crate, instead of lying on the cold metal floor.

"Did you swallow water?" Jason demanded harshly … his concern coming out as anger.

Clay winced at the tone as he was still trying to figure out how the hell he ended up flat on his back.

"Answer me!"

Another cough emitted from Clay and a wave of nausea hit him so hard and fast he became a fountain as the contents of his stomach erupted, filling the mask over his mouth.

"SHIT!" Jason rolled Clay to his side as Doc ripped off the oxygen mask.

As Eric, Ray, and Sonny looked on, Sonny asked, "What happened to the kid?"

Ray glanced at Sonny. "Did you wake before or after Clay returned?"

"Returned? Where'd he go?" Sonny stared at Clay, bewildered, his brain not firing on all cylinders. His back stung, his muscles ached, he wanted to not be conscious at this moment.

As Eric went to help lift Clay onto the gurney when the kid finished vomiting, Ray briefly explained what happened since the trawler exploded. He ended with, "Kid saved lives today … Kilpatrick's for certain."

Sonny's mind was stuck on the fact the kid defied Blackburn and jumped out of the helo. "Cocky little shit's got more balls than brains sometimes … but I'm glad he's our brother. He needs us." The pain in his head becoming too intense, Sonny shut his eyes and leaned back. Fucking concussions … I hate them.

Wiped out, Clay tried to assist in standing and moving to the bed, but his body tremored and his wobbly legs wouldn't cooperate. Once lying where Sonny had been only a short time ago, Clay met Jason's unreadable gaze as a new mask was put over his face. He drew a breath and coughed, feeling like shit but not understanding why.

Dr. Irving put a stethoscope to Clay's chest and listened as he instructed Clay to take deep breaths. When he finished, he turned to Spenser and said, "Only nod or shake, don't try to speak. Did you swallow water?"

Clay nodded.

"Doc?" Jason shifted his eyes to Irving.

"We're looking at post-immersion syndrome. In layman's terms, secondary drowning. Rare, but symptoms can take up to forty-eight hours to present. Coughing, fatigue, paleness, vomiting, labored breathing … all we've seen in just the past few minutes. Some water must've made into his lungs, irritated the lining, causing pulmonary edema."

Clay closed his eyes, sagged, and breathed out, "He fucking drown me anyway."

Not understanding the context of the comment, but the distress and the 'he' clear, Jason's hand landed on Clay's shoulder, providing a connection. He moved close to the kid's ear and whispered, "Ashhole will pay for his perfidy. You will persevere and win because you are the better man. Besides, a little water in your lungs isn't gonna get you out of your hill running punishment."

Clay's eyes popped open at the last remark, and he spied humor in Jason's expression.

Grinning, Jason added, "Trent's gonna be joining you too. Rest now … you're gonna need your strength."

"Copy," Clay responded as his team lead tousled his hair like he was a little kid. He shut his eyes again as Doc approached with an IV kit. He flinched a little when the needle pricked him, but in a few minutes, he found himself floaty and suspected Doc gave him some meds.

Jason stood next to the kid while Doc proactively pushed a broad-spectrum antibiotic for prophylaxis of possible aspiration pneumonia and an anti-emetic in the IV port for his nausea. He remained in place until Clay was out. Raking a hand through his hair and exhaling heavily, he turned to face Ray, Sonny, and Eric.

His grin grew as he noted Davis managed to prod Sonny into lying down and put several pillows under his head. Their big-bad-Texan typically eschewed any pampering, but Lisa knew how to handle all of them.

A member of the flight crew came to inform them they would be landing soon, and to take their seats. Jason wanted to ask Sonny what prompted him to call out his warning, but when he perceived the pain lines creasing Quinn's eyes, he decided to wait until everyone was settled in the hospital.

* * *

 _ **Perth Naval Hospital – Ward B**_

Happy her shoes didn't squeak and potentially wake any of the guys as she walked across the spotless and shining linoleum, Lisa moved to Sonny's bed. It was nighttime again. They landed during the day, and medical transport whisked Sonny, Ray, Brock, Clay, Trent, and Katie off to the hospital.

Jason refused to go in an ambulance, but Blackburn insisted Doc give him a thorough exam after the team doctor provided details to the Australian doctors who would be providing care for their guys. Although Dr. Irving wanted to be their primary doctor, he didn't possess privileges to practice at the hospital. Luckily, the men and women assigned to each of the boys welcomed Irving's input.

Aside from a slew of cuts, two of which needed a couple of stitches, Dr. Irving gave Jason a clean bill of health but required him to go to the barracks for at least four hours of sleep. Though Jason balked, Blackburn ordered him to go, and Davis held back her chuckle when the Great Jason Hayes stomped out wearing a pouty face.

She understood the feeling all too well. None of them wanted to be separated from their boys. And in particular, Lisa had not had a private moment with Sonny since he had been brought aboard the plane unconscious in a scorched and bloody uniform. The dent on the back of his helmet bespoke the reason he was here. If he hadn't been wearing one … he would be dead now instead of suffering a mild concussion, and that would've crushed her heart.

Lisa stopped at his bed, smiled, and peeked around to ensure the other three guys were sleeping before letting her hand stroke Sonny's hair. Her eyes welled with tears, her emotions all over the place. This whole situation with Clay's father had gotten way out-of-hand, and she hoped like hell Mandy, and her spy geeks could put the pieces together and nail Ash Spenser's ass to the wall.

A soft touch which reminded him of his Grand-ninny, who always held a special place in his heart, caused Sonny to open his eyes. In the dim room, he spied the owner of the fingers carding through his hair and noted the tears pooling in the beautiful chocolate orbs. "Gonna take more than a few explosives to take me down, Davis."

Wiping the wetness from her eyes, Lisa inhaled through her nose as her head did a jerky nod. "I know. You're one tough SEAL. How's your head … your pain level … should I call the nurse?"

Sonny reached up and grasped Lisa's hand. His voice dropped to a whisper, aware he shared the room with Brock, Clay, and Ray. "You're all the medication I need."

Both desiring to kiss, yet understanding they couldn't due to the present company who might witness them in a lip lock, they settled for a squeeze of each other's hands. Lisa let her hand remain entwined with Sonny's as she said, "Trent just left … the ER doc said he only needs a little rest, but physically he is fine. Blackburn sent him off to sleep in the barracks and take care of Cerberus who is pining for Brock. Jason will probably be here in about a half hour. He was not happy about being forced to rest himself."

"How are the others? Know they're here, but not how they're faring." Sonny's eyes drifted across the room to where Brock and Clay lay, both still on oxygen.

"Ray's being held overnight for observation. No nerve damage to his arm, or loss of grip strength. The surgeon said he'll be right as rain in a week or so.

"You're here for a couple of days. Your bell got rung … hard. And there are the first-degree burns on your legs and arms and a couple of deeper lacerations which need to heal."

Lisa's gaze moved to Clay and Brock. "Brock's got the same burns and cuts as you … relatively minor. But both he and Clay are dealing with pulmonary edema. Took the guys four dives to retrieve Brock and he inhaled water. And Clay, well, he—"

"He swallowed water too," Sonny finished for her as he recalled what occurred on the plane. "What's their prognoses?"

"Big word for you," Lisa teased trying to lighten the mood, as much for herself as for Sonny.

"This pipe hitter ain't as dumb as he pretends."

Lisa's hand moved in a flash as Jason's voice said, "Show me a stupid SEAL and I'll show you a lying son of a bitch wanna-be who couldn't make it through BUD/S."

Jason halted next to Sonny's bed and grinned. Although he had been pissed about being made to grab shuteye, it was needed, and now his head was clear and no longer pounding. "Good to find you awake. How are you doing?"

"Better than Peter Pan and Dog Man. Damn glad we had time to almost make it clear of the trawler." Sonny shifted and reached for his water cup. After taking a long drink, he peered up at his team leader. "Jace, this is fucked up."

"Yeah, it is. But at least everyone is alive, and we found Kilpatrick."

Sonny squeezed his eyes shut as the image came to mind. "Ash is behind this … no doubt in my mind now. Not after what Brock and I saw in the rudder room."

"And what exactly did you see … what tipped you off to the explosives?" Jason noted Ray woke in the bed next to Sonny's. Perfect timing. "Ray, you'll want to hear this."

Lisa shifted so Ray could be party to the conversation and she poured him a cup of water.

Opening his eyes, Sonny peered at Clay. "Ponyboy shared something with me the day we arrived here. When he was ten, Ashhole took him to the beach with his team, and nearly succeeded in drowning the kid. Ash played it off as trying to save Clay from a shark, but Adam didn't see any sharks, only some dolphins. Seaver gave Clay mouth-to-mouth on the beach … saved his life."

Clay's comment on the plane now made sense to Jason. So did the nightmares Clay experienced about his father drowning him. _The fucking prick tried to drown a ten-year-old boy ... his own son._

Sonny blew out a breath. "We all know what happened in Clay's apartment parking lot when we got back from Perth after the Dilberts mission. When the prick tried to sucker punch Clay, and I landed one to Ash's jaw."

Jason nodded. "You showed restraint that night … surprised you stopped at one."

"Wanted to plow his face into the pavement." Sonny reached for his water again, and after he sipped, he said, "Think Ashhole has been planning his revenge ever since that night."

"What makes you say that?" Lisa asked.

"In the lot, Ashhole said 'There is no way in hell you will ever erase my footsteps.' It was in response to something Clay said months earlier … hell before he joined Bravo." Sonny drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. He met Jason's eyes. "The room was lit with a single bulb, and I wondered why Brock halted … thought he found Katie … not in a good way."

"Instead of a body, there was a photo of Katie taped to the wall. Clay was in it … showed the back of his curly blond head. I recognized where it was taken … the airport the day Katie returned home. I drove the kid and her there … I know what both were wearing and the departure area."

Jason's brows drew together. "A photo is what clued you in … you didn't find a bomb?"

"Didn't see any explosives … didn't need to. The message written on the wall set my teeth on edge."

Ray sat up and swung his legs off the bed. "What was written?"

Sonny glanced over at Clay, not wanting him to overhear, glad to find his face still relaxed in sleep. "The kid finds out, and this is gonna be the last straw that crushes him. In red paint it said, your footsteps are obliterated. No one will remember you existed."

The room fell silent as the impact of the words hit each of them. Across from Sonny, no one spotted the single tear escape from Clay's eye as he listened. Proof … the evidence to prove his father organized this was now on the bottom of the Sulu Sea … right where Ashhole had intended him and his brothers to be. Lifting his lids, and the mask, Clay croaked out, "He won't stop until I'm dead."

Four heads whipped towards Clay. Jason strode over to him. "Not gonna happen. Not on my watch, Kid. You rest now. I'm going to relay this to Mandy … might help when they track down the pirates."

Clay peered up at Jason. "Sorry."

Jason put the mask back on Clay. "Like I said before. This. Isn't. Your. Fault. And we are not going to let the prick get away with this. I can and will promise you he will pay. No one fucks with our brother and gets away with it … we got your back."

He settled a hand on Clay's shoulder as the young SEAL's eyes welled with liquid and he squeezed them shut to hide his tears. Jason couldn't begin to imagine the emotional turmoil the kid was going through finding out his father planned to murder not only him but his friend Katie and his entire team.

Ash Spenser had fallen as far as a man could. Once upon a time, he might've been a decent sailor, poor husband, and an absentee father, but now he possessed not a single shred of honor and needed to excised from this world. Jason placed Ash's actions lower than religious zealots who used terrorist acts against innocents and arms dealers who didn't care if the weapons they sold killed indiscriminately.

Instead of being proud of his son's achievements, Ash's psychopathic narcissism broke the primal instinct of a parent to protect their progeny at all costs. The man needed to die … life in prison was too good for the pathetic prick.

With the assistance of Lisa, Sonny made his way to Clay's bed and grasped his hand. "Didn't mean for you to hear that, Brother. Leastwise not just yet."

Lisa pulled over a chair and pressed on Sonny's shoulder to make him sit. She understood Sonny's need to be close to the kid now, so she helped him out of bed. She also recognized her presence was not needed. Clay wouldn't open up and let loose with her in the room. Men who prided themselves on being badasses rarely liked to exhibit their vulnerability to the fairer sex, unless the woman was a girlfriend or wife, and even then, they usually tried to hide it.

She turned her eyes to Jason. "Stay here. I'm leaving now, and I'll inform Mandy."

"Thanks." Jason appreciated Davis' gesture, not wanting to leave Clay in his time of need. The poor kid required a solid show of brotherhood support … and a hug or two, but he doubted Clay would allow them to go that far.

Ray made his way over as Lisa exited the room. Jason found another chair and brought it close to the bed for Ray to sit. The three men remained silent, each one laying a hand on Clay so he would know they were not leaving him. A soft sob escaped and was followed by more as Clay broke down.

.

* * *

 **CHAPTER 8**  
 **Perseverance … One Thing I Learned Very Early On**

 _ **One Week Later – Perth Naval Hospital – Katie's Room**_

Clay sat in the chair beside Katie's bed, holding her hand, and gazing at the sleeping form, watching her chest rise and fall with labored breaths. If Trent found him out of his own bed again there would be hell to pay, but he refused to leave Katie alone in her room. Being the middle of the night, the probability of any of his team catching him was minimal, especially since everyone except him and Brock now slept in the barracks and the hospital staff was extremely strict on visiting hours.

The almost fanatical adherence of those hours by Katie's night nurse is the reason Katie had been all alone before he snuck in. According to Koala, her grandfather tried unsuccessfully to gain access after-hours, but had been found and escorted out every night … tonight included.

Clay met her grandparents two days ago, and he liked the gruff older man who shook his hand with vigor. Mrs. Kilpatrick was a spritely woman for her age, and Clay understood where Katie got her zest for life. Both her grandparents were profuse in their thanks to him and the rest of the team for saving their Katie. Appreciation Clay didn't believe he deserved since she wouldn't be in this precarious position if not for his father … but that is something he kept to himself per Jason's orders.

Coughing several times, Clay covered the sound in the crook of his elbow, hoping not to alert the nurses of his presence. Both he and Brock ended up with pulmonary edema, but Brock's condition was worse than his. The hair missile handler was put on a ventilator for three days when his O2 saturation levels crashed. Brock still required oxygen, whereas Clay had been weaned off completely earlier tonight, and only remained confined to the hospital for observation until tomorrow or the next day depending on how well he did on normal air.

Katie, on the other hand, became very ill. Bacterial pneumonia took up residence and refused to be evicted even though they had her on some strong antibiotics. The doctors said she still had a tough fight but were cautiously optimistic now that they had the right meds onboard she would begin to improve.

Clay caressed her hand. "I wish I could do more … that my father had not gone after you … that I hadn't call you my wife in front of Ash. He hates me and wants to ruin my life … he's nothing like your grandparents or your dad."

"Katie, I'm so sorry. If I ever suspected Ash would hurt you, I would've done something to protect you. I knew he didn't give a damn about anyone besides himself, but I didn't think he would stoop this low." Several coughs erupted causing Clay to pause and take deep breaths.

"Clay," Katie whispered in a raspy voice.

His head pivoted and his eyes latched on hers as he stood and moved closer. "Hey. Don't try to speak … save your strength."

"Not … your … fault." Determination reflected in her eyes as she peered at Clay.

"Yeah, it is. I told him I would erase his footsteps … now he is trying to erase me and everyone I care about."

"Still … not—" a coughing fit interrupted her.

Clay put an arm behind Katie's back to help her sit up a bit more as it was easier to breathe in an upright position. When the attack subsided, he lowered her to her pillow, reached for her water cup, and held it as she took several sips. "Better?"

Katie nodded, exhausted by the simple act of breathing but she wanted to make sure Clay didn't blame himself. Koala explained the situation to her, how the pirates abducted her and used her as bait to lure Bravo team. And most importantly, something not to be shared with anyone beyond her squad and Bravo was that they all believed Ash Spenser was behind the plot and intelligence agents from both countries, Ms. Ellis and Mr. DeSoto were working to find proof which would put the elder Spenser in prison for a long time.

"I don't … blame … you." She reached for his hand.

Clay clasped her hand and kissed it. He didn't offer another rebuttal because he didn't want to tire her out by arguing, but he didn't agree … it was his own father trying to kill him, Katie, and his brothers. "Rest now."

Katie recognized the defeat in Clay's eyes and the weight on his shoulders so decided to change the topic. "Going … home … soon."

"Yeah, your grandfather said as much this afternoon. Once you are released, he said you will be recuperating with them." Clay blushed a bit as he said, "Your grandma asked if I wanted to come and stay until I'm cleared for duty."

"Come … if … can … want." Katie smiled and squeezed Clay's hand. She would love to show him around her home in the outback and if Grandma invited him that meant he met Grandpa's insanely high criteria … few men ever did, which made dating while in high school difficult.

"Would like, but Jason and the guys are not letting me out of their sight until this thing with Ash is resolved."

"Your brothers … good men … family." She lifted their entwined hands and she kissed his. "Perhaps … another … time."

Clay nodded and with his free hand, he lightly stroked her hair. "You're family too."

A little snort came from Katie. "Hope … not … sisterly."

Clay chuckled and smiled for the first time in a week. "Definitely not sister … not into incest. We'll stick with … hmmm, the one who understands me more than I do myself … a kindred soul."

"I like … kindred souls." Katie's eyes drifted shut as she ran out of energy and sleep beckoned.

Leaning down, Clay pressed his lips to her cheek. "Sleep well, Katie, my girl."

Katie's eyes popped open. "What … did … you say?"

Surprised, Clay repeated, "Katie, my girl."

A soft, contented smile lit Katie's face. "Pops used … to call me that." A sigh escaped, "Like … when … you …" she started coughing again.

When Katie couldn't catch her breath, Clay hit the call button to bring the nurse. He received the evil-eye from Nurse Rachet, but luckily, she focused more on helping her patient than reaming him for being here. Once Katie settled and fell asleep due to being worn out, the nurse's attention concentrated on him.

"Mr. Spenser, you are not where you're supposed to be. Now, march yourself right back to your bed. And if I find you in here again, I will be phoning Mr. Sawyer."

Clay pulled the chair closer to the head of the bed and sat, refusing to go. "I'm not leaving her alone. Call if you must." He watched as Katie's nurse huffed out of the room and steeled himself for the fight to come with the team medic.

Forty minutes later, Trent shuffled into Katie's room after being rousted from his bed by a call from the hospital. He first checked in on Brock, then came to Katie's room. He found Clay holding hands with Katie while his head rested on the edge of her bed, sound asleep.

Trent grinned, and went to the second chair near the doorway, and lowered himself into it as he yawned. He came, not to force Clay to return to his room but to support his brother in his decision to remain here. Needing more sleep himself, he leaned back and closed his eyes.

* * *

 _ **San Diego – Pirate's Cove Pub**_

Paul Barker nursed a beer as he sat at a table with a few guys from his old team. He hadn't seen them in ages, but after a chance meeting with Ash over a week ago, he decided he should look up old brothers and check in with them. The five men enjoyed sharing memories of prior missions, days gone by when they were all young pipe hitters raring to make a difference in the world.

Of the eight guys he attempted contacted, four of them transitioned to civilian life after a few bumps in the road, after hanging up the rifle. The other four appeared not so lucky. Of the remaining four, one committed suicide, one was in a VA mental hospital, the third was in prison, and the last one he couldn't find any contact info and he believed he might be homeless since he had been discharged with PTSD.

As the conversation lulled, Paul decided to broach something which niggled in the back of his mind ever since the night he sat here with Ash and watched a mission go sideways. "You guys remember Spenser, right?"

"The arrogant Prima Donna … yeah. Heard he was PNG'd for writing that damned book. The man should be shot for putting the boys in the teams now at risk by divulging things he shouldn't have," Sam said.

Paul watched the others nod. "Did you know his son followed in his footsteps?"

"Little Clay?" Darrell set his beer down.

Jim nodded. "Yes, I did, and he's not little anymore. Adam and I talked while Ash's kid was in Green Team. Seems the younger version is all that Ash was and more. A damned fine operator with potential to lead a team one day Adam claimed. Seaver was proud Bravo picked Clay. Felt they would give the boy the family he deserved. Ash never gave a damn about his son.

"Still remember the time Adam revived Clay when he nearly drowned. Something never added up for me. Ash said a shark attacked but there were no bite marks. Bet Ash isn't too pleased to have his boy potentially outshine him. The cocky SOB always had to be the center of attention."

As Paul listened to Jim, his gut rolled as he realized what struck him odd about the video feed he viewed with Ash. He exhaled heavily as weight crashed down on him. For him this would be a break of faith, but since Ash already broke their trust with his tell-all book, perhaps Paul should look at what he had to do as protecting a brother … a much younger brother … one young enough to be his own son.

Paul stood and all eyes turned to him. "Sorry, I hate to leave, but I must go … it's important."

Darrell grinned. "Don't be a stranger. Perhaps we can set up a monthly poker game."

"I'm in, give me a call once you boys figure out the details." Paul hurried out and when he sat in his car, the closest place to offer privacy, he dialed the number of his former commander who was now an admiral. When the call connected, he said, "Droit, we need to talk on a secure line. I have some information which may lead to some serious shit."

* * *

 _ **Four Days Later – Perth Naval Hospital – Ward B**_

It took three days longer than expected for Clay to be released, due to a persistent cough, so as Clay finished tying his boot, he was pumped and ready to blow this joint, but also a little pensive that the only occupied bed in the room still held his brother. Jason said he would be over to gather him within the next thirty minutes, so with time to kill, he plopped down in the chair beside Brock's bed. "Anything I can bring you when we all come to visit later this afternoon?"

Pleased to be on a nasal cannula instead of the full mask, Brock grinned. "Sneak Cerb in to visit me."

Chuckling, Clay nodded as he recalled all the times Brock had done the same thing for him. "Consider it done."

"Oh, and make sure Sonny isn't feeding him too many treats … otherwise, training will go down the tubes."

"You got it. I can run Cerb through some drills … make Sonny wear the padded suit."

Brock laughed, and ended up coughing and had to take a moment to regain his breath before he said, "Sure. Perfect punishment for all the crap he feeds Cerb."

"Hey, um, Brock," Clay's tone became serious.

"Stop … don't go there. I heard you with Sonny, Trent, Ray, and Jason … don't apologize. None of us blame you. NONE!" Brock studied Clay, noting the slump in his shoulders. "Let me ask you something."

Clay tried to ask for forgiveness from each one of his brothers, and they all said the same thing, but Clay couldn't wrap his head around it. In his mind, he was the responsible party, but he gave Brock a slight nod.

"Okay, … let's say it wasn't Ash who orchestrated this whole shebang, but a family member of some terrorist you schwacked. Would you be blaming yourself?"

"Not the same thing."

"It is to us. But let me change that. What if it was my dad going after all of you … and me, what then? Would you see me as different, be mad at me, think I deserved to be flogged for something out of my control? Or would you be pissed off at my father and want to get payback for the shit he was putting me through? Huh?"

Clay only stared. Brock didn't talk a whole lot, but when he did, he usually had a point to make. He exhaled long and slow.

"We know you, Clay. You possess honor where Ash doesn't. He betrayed all SEALs when he published that damned book … but you are not him and that isn't your fault either. You are not your father's keeper. Jesus, man, you deserve better parents than you got. It sucks, but those are the cards fate dealt you. But you have us now … fate also did that for you."

Clay puffed out a breath. "Sometimes I think fate is some senile old author who loves fucking with my life."

Brock couldn't help the snicker. "Yeah, maybe … but at least the author gave you five brothers who will go to the ends of the earth for you. And one damned fine hair missile who would willingly rip the throat of anyone who hurts you and track you down in the deepest, darkest Argentinean or Ecuadorian jungle."

A small smile graced Clay's face. "Or the Himalayan mountains."

"Demolished building in the desert of Dongola."

Clay's smile grew. "Caves in Chambagul."

"Yep. Cerb's great at playing 'Where in the World is Clay Spenser?' He wins every time."

Clay broke out in a laugh and he began to accept that his brothers truly didn't blame him for what his father had done.

Brock relaxed, he hoped this meant the kid would stop beating himself up for things beyond his control.

* * *

 _ **SAS Regiment – TOC**_

Glad to be out of the hospital, yet surprised to be walking into Koala's ops room instead of going to the barracks, Clay followed Jason, who didn't provide him any explanation. He noted Mandy at the front with Blackburn while Ray, Sonny, and Trent were all seated around the table. What struck him as odd was none of the Australians were in attendance. He kept his mouth shut as he took a seat next to Jason.

"Now that we're all here, let's begin," Eric addressed those gathered. "First, you must be wondering where Koala and his squad are. I am at liberty to say they're on their way back from successfully acquiring Fidel Pangan, the leader of the pirates who abducted Kilpatrick.

"Ms. Ellis and Mr. Desoto developed a package which the Australian government green lit based not only on the kidnapping of Katie but the fact this group has taken at least ten other Australian's in the past three years."

Eric noted their disbelief. "Would've advocated for us to get the HVT, but with four of you still not cleared for duty, I figured you wouldn't care who did the honors so long as the responsible party was brought down. And Koala's squad has as much vested interest in wanting payback and jumped at the chance to bring him in."

"Who is going to interrogate him to find out if Ash had a hand in this?" Clay asked.

Eric breathed out heavy as his gaze moved from Mandy to Jason, and stopped on Clay. The next would be difficult to share. "Ms. Ellis will be interviewing him to garner intel into their activities, but there is no need to determine if Ash Spenser was involved … the proof exists already."

Clay's jaw tightened. One thing to suspect, another for it to be confirmed.

"Clay, what I'm about to share goes no further than Bravo. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Eric took a moment to arrange his thoughts. "Admiral Droit contacted me early this morning. A former SEAL, who will remain unidentified for his and his family's protection, came forward and provided intel which set off a chain of events.

"The informant witnessed the trawler mission played out on Ash's laptop. He indicated Ash implied Clay provided Ash access, though how Clay could do that is unknown since our feeds are encrypted and you gentlemen don't have access to them. But something about what he viewed bothered him until he figured out he was seeing the team straight on, not from an overhead drone or helmet cams.

"The video came from stationary sources and followed Bravo through the boat as each room was searched. The most damning evidence is he saw the message written on the wall next to Kilpatrick's photo. And though he didn't know who, he witnessed Sonny and Brock getting blown off the trawler before the feed ended."

Clay's head bowed and his gaze dropped to his lap as Blackburn relayed the details. Unsure how to react, wondering what his father faced or if the man's silver tongue would get him out of going to prison or if the evidence would disappear like last time, Clay kept his eyes lowered.

"Clay." Eric waited until Spenser lifted his head and their gazes met.

"Yes?"

Eric blew out a soft breath. "Although the evidence is airtight, since they found details on his laptop, including a recording of the trawler mission, Ash will not be going to prison. Ash's lawyer indicated Ash would plead not guilty by reason of insanity, claiming PTSD and had him transferred to the psych ward for evaluation."

"WHAT?!" Sonny exploded. "The man tried to kill his son … us, and Katie. What the hell kind of game is he playing now?"

"Sonny, quiet, please," Jason said as a hand landed on Clay's shoulder offering support and deciding the news should come from him and not Blackburn. "Kid, look at me."

Clay turned to Jason as his gut twisted. His father would get off by claiming psychosis. Though, perhaps fitting, because what sane father wanted to kill his son because of a few words said in anger.

"Your father is dead. He died two days ago."

"How?" is all Clay could manage to get out from his constricted throat.

"Presumed suicide as he was alone in the cell. Appears he hung himself with the bed sheets."

"Appears?"

"Well, an investigation took place because he had not expressed suicidal thoughts, but with the means to do it himself, no evidence pointing to an external culprit, and the fact he was claiming PTSD … they ruled it a suicide."

Clay's eyes shut as he processed the news. "It's over … he can't hurt the people I care about now. But I'll never know why he hated me so much."

The room remained silent for several moments before Eric cleared his throat to bring their attention to him. "The reason these details are to be contained to Bravo is Ash's activities will not be made public in the name of national security."

His voice devoid of emotion, Clay asked, "Sir, what cause of death will be reported for Ash?"

"Suicide as the result of PTSD," Eric related.

Clay nodded. "Okay." He pushed to his feet and gazed at his brothers. "I need some time alone. I won't go far and I'll be back soon."

"Take whatever time you need. We'll be in the barracks when and if you want to talk, brother," Ray said as he stood and patted Clay's back.

Sonny watched Clay shuffle out, heard him cough several times, and when the door shut, he growled. "Kid shouldn't be alone."

"He isn't." Jason rose and raked a hand through his hair. "We need to respect his need to process this news, but he is not alone. We're here for him. We're his family and we won't let him down."

* * *

 _ **Two Weeks Later – Virginia – Naval Combat Training Center**_

Clay hung up the phone with a grin on his face and jogged to catch up with the rest of the guys. The past fourteen days had been interesting. They stayed four more days in Australia until Brock was released and could fly home without issue. He spent most of his time sitting with Katie until he had to leave. Her room was bustling with visitors, both Koala's squad and Bravo kept stopping by to check on her, and they busied themselves by playing poker while she slept.

After taking his walk when he found out about Ash's death, he returned to the barracks, and ever since at least one of his brothers was close by, ready with a willing ear if he wanted to talk. Mostly he kept to himself, but he had opened up a bit to both Sonny and Jason. Sonny because he felt a genuine connection … something he hadn't imagined when he first joined and Quinn rode him. And Jason, because, well, he was his team leader and he needed to be aware of his headspace.

His occasional cough finally quit a few days ago too, but Brock's still hung on, which kept the dog handler on the inactive list. They all hoped he got the all clear in the next week or so, but until he did, Blackburn had taken Bravo off rotation. Since returning stateside, they spent their day's training.

"How's Katie?" Sonny asked when Clay joined them.

"Doing well. The doctor released her yesterday, and she is at home recuperating now." Clay glanced at the four-story building they were headed for and asked, "Do you know what Jason has planned for today?"

Sonny chuckled. "You'll see."

As they entered the building, Clay became more puzzled. They used this space for many different training scenarios, but the configuration today was nothing like anything he had ever seen.

Jason turned and pinned his gaze on Clay as he clapped his hands together once and grinned. "Today's training is being led by Brock. So, without further ado, Brock, the floor is yours."

"I'm going to take us through some trust exercises, and then we will move to working on desensitization techniques. Clay, when I first started training with Cerb, he was no fan of parachuting. He would whine, cower, and his whole body would shake."

When Clay's brows furrowed, Brock chuckled. "You're not a dog … not so lucky … but, hey, the methods I used to help him overcome his phobia work with humans too. What you went through after our HAHO jump into Nepal has made you a bit gun shy of parachuting."

Sonny interrupted, "We all understand and don't judge you … we only want to help you push through and get back up on the pony."

Trent nodded and interjected, "To us, this is no different than Sonny's phobia of sharks, jungles, spiders, swimming—"

Interrupting again, Sonny shoved Trent as he said, "Enough … and yeah, well, Brock get on with it."

For the next six hours, the team ran through a multitude of exercises meant to build trust, Brock wanting to take things slow and always believing all the guys would benefit. Once he was satisfied Clay appeared comfortable, he began to introduce the fear-inducing items. He had Clay don a parachute, and every time he began to panic one of them would be there to calm him.

After five more hours, which left Clay thoroughly wiped out, emotionally and physically, Brock called a halt to the day. They would begin again tomorrow and take as long as necessary to desensitize Clay.

* * *

 _ **Brock's Home**_

A grin played on Brock's face as he strolled towards his kitchen to grab a drink of water. At least that would be his excuse if he found Clay awake, but he didn't. Clay remained curled up on the couch with his arm slung over Cerb who lay next to him. His dog was one badass canine in the field while working, but as cuddly as a teddy bear when off-duty.

Cerb claimed Clay as one of his pack … his boy, and yeah, if Brock were the jealous type, he might be upset Cerb picked to snuggle up with Clay tonight, but he wasn't, and their kid brother needed the comfort Cerb provided.

When Cerb's ears perked up, and he opened his eyes, Brock whispered, "Stay, good boy." Pivoting and heading back to bed, Brock recalled how Clay kept his word and snuck Cerb into his hospital room every day. He still was not quite clear how Clay managed to do so, but having Cerb around as he recovered in Australia meant the world to him.

* * *

 _ **Three Weeks Later - Bravo's Plane**_

"Time to jock up, boys," Eric said as he approached the team, pleased to have all six men in tip-top shape again. They were flying over the Philippine Sea, their mission to secure an HVT hiding out on the island of Palau. The ops required a stealth approach, so the boys would HALO in, locate and apprehend the target, and exfil via boats which would be waiting for their signal.

Clay stood and clenched his fist. This would be the first mission parachute jump he made since the one which landed him in the hands of a demented quack who basically set his back on fire with the archaic cupping treatment … which he didn't need in the first place. He took several steadying breaths as he approached his parachute.

"You got this, Poster boy," Jason said with a grin and a pat on Clay's back.

Sonny clapped Clay's shoulder and squeezed. "Peter Pan loves to fly … time to go to Never Never Land."

Clay picked up his chute as he recalled how his brothers worked with him for two full weeks, helping him overcome his phobia of jumping out of a perfectly functioning plane. Never once had they laughed at his anxiety … especially the first time he stood at the door of the aircraft to do a practice jump.

He had been a mess of nerves and shook so badly he refused to leap, nearly passing out as he hyperventilated. None of them ever called him a coward. But the next time they went up, Sonny strapped him to him and forced him to jump tandem. It took five tandem jumps, one with each brother, before Clay got up the guts to actually leave the plane on his own. After that, they did so many practice jumps in all kinds of weather, Clay lost count … and got his panic attacks under control.

Though a slight residual nervousness still lingered, Clay was ready to run towards danger again. He glanced over at Cerb and smiled as the pup eagerly waited for his special mask to be fitted over his head. He chuckled as he realized they had trained him just like a dog … but, hey, whatever worked.

As the rear of the plane opened, Clay confidently stepped into line, and walked off into the dark of night … the winds rushing in his face as he waited to pull his ripcord. _Perseverance … one thing I learned very early on. If something is important, it is worth the effort and persistence despite difficulty or delay in achieving success. And today I count as a success!_

.

 _The End_

* * *

 **AN:** So as you have figured out this is AU with respect to Ash Spenser. I usually try to stay within canon, and fill in the gaps with new stories, but in this case, it worked best this way.

Hope you enjoyed the story ... it certainly became much longer than I originally planned (happens a lot with my stories). Anyhow, drop me a comment and let me know what you thought. I've got some thoughts for the letter Q, but I need to let them percolate for a bit.

Oh, and YEAH ... did you happen to see SEAL Team was officially renewed for Season 3!


	17. Quixotic Mission

**Quixotic Mission**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Quills and Queasy**

 _ **Jungle in Ecuador Near Border with Columbia**_

"QUILLS, FUCKING QUILLS!" Sonny griped as he lay flat on his stomach and the rest of the guys couldn't help their snickers as Trent pulled porcupine quills from Quinn's ass.

"Should watch where you drop your pants to take a dump. Could've been one of those freaking huge spiders biting your pale ass," Ray teased as he guarded their blindfolded and bound HVT, allowing the man to sip from a water bottle while they rested.

"Who the hell knew these damned spiny bastards lived in a jungle?" Sonny grumbled.

"Well, they inhabit tropical and temperate parts of Asia, Southern Europe, Africa, and North and South America—"

"Rhetorical question, Clay-pedia! Shut the fuck up." Sonny shifted and gritted his teeth as Trent pulled out another hooked barb. "OW! Fucking ow. Pull them out, but don't rip my skin off in the process."

"Big baby. Six never yelped when Four pulled out all those needles from his back and legs," Brock teased as he kept watch to the south.

Taking pity on Sonny, well almost, Clay said, "Now, now, the Mighty Quill, I mean Quinn shouldn't be the butt of our jokes … and besides I was drugged out of my mind at the time. But you boys need to pay up. I won the bet … ten quills before he screamed like a little girl."

Sonny growled while Clay and the rest of Bravo chuckled.

Jason only shook his head, finding humor in the situation, but also worried Sonny would add one more thing to his list of phobias for the jungle. Though with the embarrassing nature of this, um, injury, he doubted Quinn would want this one documented.

Luckily, Quinn sitting on a poor, unsuspecting baby porcupine hiding in the heavy foliage where Sonny went to relieve himself, occurred after they acquired the HVT. Stopping for Trent to remove all the quills wouldn't impede their exfil since they still had a full day's hike through dense jungle to meet the helos.

Jason chuckled again as he caught the last part of a comment from Brock as their dog handler said, "So this proves the quill is mightier than the sword."

Ray took the water from Porfirio Quirós, one of the top ten on the CIA's capture list. His drug cartel shipped loads of cocaine and fully automatic weapons into the U.S., and they needed the man alive to interrogate him to identify the strategies he used to circumvent detection. The lax banter among the team, only occurred because Quirós didn't speak English, if he comprehended the tongue, Clay wouldn't have used Sonny's last name.

On the converse … Clay was not the only one to speak Spanish now. Both he and Jason took an intensive Spanish language course after their previous disastrous mission in Ecuador. In fact, each of the guys picked two languages to learn from regions they typically operated in to ensure no one could force Clay on a mission solely because he was the only one to speak the language. It was one way they hoped to protect the kid.

Ray kept an eye on their prisoner as he moved closer to Jason to speak in a whisper, "Think Quinn's gonna be in any condition to move as fast as we need?"

"We've got a little slack in our timeline before exfil. Sonny will push through. Might bitch like there is no tomorrow but he is one hard-core SEAL so he won't slow down." Jason wiped the accumulated sweat from his forehead. "Four, how much longer?"

Trent yanked out the last quill. "Just need to slather on some antibiotic cream, and I'm done."

"Give it to me … I'll do it. Don't need your hands rubbing all over my ass," Sonny grumbled as he stood.

"Hey … no problem … don't want to be touching your backside any more than you want me to." Trent tossed Sonny the ointment and then packed up his supplies.

Once Quinn finished, he shoved the tube of triple antibiotic cream in his pants pocket. He pulled up his pants and glared at his brothers. "Not one word outta any of you or I swear your face will accidentally meet with my fist repeatedly."

His threat was met with another round of snickers. They wouldn't be letting him live this one down for a long time … threat or no threat … it was just too good to pass up needling him.

"Six, take point," Jason ordered as they all stowed their water, gripped their weapons, and prepared to move out.

* * *

 _ **Quito, Ecuador – Aeropuerto International – Bravo Plane**_

"Good copy, passing Piranha." Eric caught Mandy smiling as she marked off the step for him on the whiteboard. Bravo team had chosen the deadliest animals in the jungle as code names just to mess with Quinn's head. He wouldn't tell many people, but he enjoyed the antics of this team more than he should.

His CO would surely cringe with the informal and lax demeanor he displayed when among the men he led. Officers were to maintain distance socially from the enlisted personnel under them, supposedly to reinforce the chain of command. But Eric never bought into that quixotic crap. Men followed leaders they respected much better than those who played the 'I'm above you, and you will follow my orders' game.

The men of Bravo were family, and they were more open with him if he relaxed on some things … like haircuts, uniforms, and a myriad of other little things which made the lives of his men better. The easy comradery allowed him to understand them and in the long run, kept everyone safer. Eric's main goals were to complete their missions with all of his guys coming home alive and unharmed.

He sighed … the latter he failed on many times since Clay joined. Eric couldn't pinpoint exactly what changed in the team's missions, but something niggled in the back of his head that they ended up with the worst of the ops. It could simply be that they were the best of the elite teams with skills other teams only wished they possessed, but at times he got an inkling it had something to do with them choosing Spenser. Eric's thoughts were interrupted as Mandy spoke.

"Something isn't sitting right with me. All intel I gleaned indicated Quirós' men would follow, and they didn't." Mandy sucked in her bottom lip as she chewed on the quandary. "Not that I want them to encounter hostiles … but this doesn't fit the profile."

Eric's stomach clenched and rolled and it had nothing to do with the questionable quesadilla he ate last night. "You thinking setup, trap, or something else?"

"Not sure. I'm going to speak with my contact." Mandy started to exit the plane but stopped when Blackburn called to her.

"Wait. Don't want you roaming around Quito without protection if this is some sort of setup. Take Derek and John with you." Eric prepared for Mandy to become quarrelsome at his suggestion but was surprised when she only nodded in agreement.

His hand went to his stomach as it rolled again, a queasy feeling growing. _Perhaps this is related to the quesadilla … I really shouldn't be eating local cuisine._ Eric went to his pack and rummage around for his bottle of antacid and popped the chalky chewable tablets in his mouth.

* * *

 _ **Jungle**_

On point, Clay moved through the thick growth, his boots sinking a little as they traversed the rain-soaked quagmire. Sonny hated jungles, and Clay was beginning to agree with him. They traipsed through the rain for the last hour and now the heat of the day combined with the humidity created a steamy sauna causing his clothes to stick to him.

The bugs were relentless. Even with bug spray, the mosquitos were eating him alive. Clay slapped his neck again as he felt something bite him. They had hours to go, and he couldn't wait to get on the helo and out of this damned jungle. The silence of his brothers behind him indicated they agreed. This mission sucked even though they snagged their HVT with little resistance.

Sonny followed Clay, his backside awash in pain. The ointment only served to keep his body heat in and he was certain he would have a rash of epic portions in addition to the multitude of pinholes caused by the fucking quills. He stumbled on a log, and his hands landed in the soft boggy dirt, but he managed not to plant his face.

"I hate friggin jungles. Logs and roots and shit … a bunch of trip hazards in addition to all the things that can kill ya."

Brock stopped and lent Sonny a hand. "Beginning to agree." His eyes spied movement and yanked Quinn backward, running into Ray and Quirós.

"What the hell?" Ray said as he picked himself up.

Sonny eyed Brock quizzically.

Brock sucked in a breath and pointed to the massive anaconda slithering across their path, which he and Sonny had initially mistaken for a log.

"Holy shit!" Sonny took several steps back, bumping into Trent, his insides flip-flopping making him queasy.

"Six, hold up a moment. Apparently, we're at a snake crossing," Jason grinned as Sonny shivered and bent over with his hands on his thighs and took several deep, panting breaths.

"Three is making friends with all the indigenous wildlife. Not sure which I'd rather tangle with, a pissed off porcupine or Kaa." Brock quipped.

"Kaa?" Trent asked.

"Name of the snake in Jungle Book." Brock watched the enormous greenish boa constrictor undulate as it moved onward, glad it didn't see them as prey … at least while they were standing and able to get away. Grateful they wouldn't be spending another night here Brock released a slight chuckle.

"You watching kid movies now?" Sonny retorted.

"Spent some time with my niece and nephew … they wanted to watch the movie."

"Live action or the original animation?" Ray queried.

"Animation … Baloo the bear is the best." Brock grinned recalling the weekend he got to babysit his sister's kids when she went out of town to attend the quinceañera for one of her friend's fifteen-year-old daughter.

"Don't go singing the bare necessities … your voice will startle all the animals. Wait, on second thought, sing, and drive everything away from us." Sonny grinned, for a moment forgetting about his sore butt.

"I'm partial to King Louie," Jason joined in the banter.

"Bagheera, the jaguar was always my favorite," Ray added, thinking when they got back, he would watch the flick with his kids … maybe pop some popcorn, grab some candy and sodas, and have a real family night. Naima and his daughter would enjoy sharing the time together, and so would he.

The guys joked a little longer as they hydrated and waited for the snake train to go by. Jason was the first to recognize something was queer … off … not right. He peered to where Clay should be standing when he realized the kid had not joined in any of the conversations. "Six?"

Silence met his call. Jason raised his voice. "Six, status. Where the hell are you?"

His raised voice created a sense of dread and urgency in the pit of everyone's stomach, especially when Clay didn't respond.

Sonny was the first one to charge forward … snake be damned … he was not losing the kid again. Hot on his heels were Jason, Brock, and Cerb. Ray and Trent moved forward but at a slower rate as they maneuvered their still blindfolded target through the undergrowth.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Quadros and Quicksand**

 _ **Quito, Ecuador – Café**_

Mandy kept her eyes peeled for her contact, as John and Derek blended into the background. She wouldn't admit to anyone, but being in Ecuador left her quivery. The last time she was here, Carlson abducted her, and she nearly got all of Bravo killed. When Blackburn told her to take the guys, she almost wanted to kiss him for sending her with protection.

As she sipped her iced cocoa with QimiQ whipped cream and snacked on Pão de queijo, a delightful baked cheese roll, she pondered again why Quirós' men didn't go after their leader. It just didn't fit the profile. Spotting Medina Quadros, Mandy waved to her and smiled, acting as if they were friends meeting up for a mid-morning chat.

Quadros returned the smile, hurried over, and took a seat. "Oh, you ordered my favorites," she spoke in Spanish, took a sip of the beverage, before switching to English to avoid most others in the quaint outdoor café from eavesdropping, "Why did you contact me?"

Following suit, Mandy used English. "Our friend, the one who doesn't like to travel alone, well, he had no qualms about taking a trip without his entourage. I'm hoping you might be able to shed some light on why."

Her face morphing into a quizzical expression as her brows scrunched together, Quadros shook her head. "That is quite odd. He always travels with at least twenty or more."

"Indeed. We expected and planned for a large group, but only a few showed to his going away party, and none came with him." Mandy hoped speaking in riddles would throw off any nosey bystanders who might comprehend English.

"Give me some time to check into things. I'll contact you if I can determine why."

"Thanks, but be quick, I need to alert the tour guides to any changes, and they are not too keen on surprises."

Quadros nodded, pulled out her phone, pretended to read a text, then stood and returned to Spanish, "Oh no. I'm sorry, I must go … a quarrel broke out between my employees and one of them up quit. I'm needed in the office."

"I understand. Go. We'll chat later," Mandy responded in Spanish. She remained a little longer, enjoying a few more of the Pão de queijo and finishing her cocoa. She paid the bill, made eye contact with Derek, and rose. Mandy strolled down the street, confident her escort followed. Three streets over, she got into the rear seat of the car and waited for John and Derek.

As they slipped in the front seat, Mandy placed a hand over her stomach, the queasiness she tried to suppress for over an hour increased. She hoped she wouldn't embarrass herself by becoming sick in front of the guys. No such luck. "Pull over … now!"

Mandy barely made it to the curb before vomiting.

* * *

 _ **Jungle**_

Sonny came to an abrupt halt not too far from where he tripped over the snake. Unfortunately, Jason didn't put the brakes on as fast and slammed into him … knocking both of them over the edge. They slid down the Goonies-like slide, both out of control on the unexpected steep muddy slope as they tumbled ass over tea kettle.

Brock managed, just barely to pull back on Cerb's leash and avoid the same fate as Jason and Sonny. He couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out … sure it was dangerous … but it was also damned funny. As his teammates landed at the bottom, Jason cushioned by Sonny, Ray and Trent appeared next to him.

"Whoa … some drop," Ray stated the obvious.

"Get off, me!" Sonny grumbled after he spat out a mouthful of mud and shoved at Jason, who had the audacity to laugh as he rolled off and gained his knees.

Jason's face like Sonny's was caked in slimy mud and decomposing foliage, and reminded him of the mud facial Alana and Emma spent a fortune on last summer. It tickled his funny bone, and he couldn't help but laugh. Rising, after several unsuccessful tries, his feet sinking into the boggy ground, Jason offered a mud-covered hand to Sonny. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." Sonny also struggled to stand in the slick muck and ended up back on his sore ass not once but twice, letting out a disgusted groan to cover the pain it caused his abused tush. The third time a charm, Sonny kept his feet and huffed, "Damned jungles," as he tried to wipe off some of the crap sticking to his face.

All humor left Jason's face as he spotted Clay. His boots squelched as he started forward only to halt as Ray called out, "Stop, you're in quicksand."

"Six. Hey, kid!" Jason shouted to the youngest member of his team not more than eight feet from him, who appeared to be chest deep in the quicksand with his head lolled forward and a trickle of blood running down his cheek.

Sonny backed up a few steps to terra-firma and reached out to Jason, pulling him out of the sucking bog. He stared at the equally muddy kid wondering how come he didn't call out for help. He shook the question away for now, to focus on a more important one. "How we gonna get him out if he ain't awake to grab a rope?"

Slip-sliding his way down to the bottom holding Cerb, Brock had already created a slipknot loop at the end of one of their long, nylon ropes. "I'll lengthen Cerb's leash. He is lighter and less likely to sink. He can nudge the loop around one of Clay's hands, and we can rig a pulley to drag him out."

Making it to the bottom, leaving Ray up top with the HVT, Trent peered out at Spencer. "What I want to know is why he is unconscious."

"Might've hit his head on a rock if he took the fast way down like us," Jason turned Sonny and unzipped his pack to grab another rope. "Gotta get him out first, though."

Trent helped Jason prepare the pulley system because if any of them lost their grip while tugging, Clay might sink into the quagmire again. "We need to pull firm but slow, so we don't dislocate his shoulder. Would be better if we could get the rope under his pits and around his chest, but I don't see Cerb being able to accomplish that task."

Brock knelt and patted Cerb as he held out the loop for him to hold in his mouth. "Okay Cerb, need you to take this to your boy and put it around his wrist. Go easy." He showed him the end of the leash. "I got you so if you start sinking. I'll pull you out. Understand?"

Sonny almost chuckled at the way Brock talked to Cerb like he was a human and could understand him, but didn't … because quite frankly there were times, he sincerely believed the dog understood everything they said. And right now, the hair missile was the quickest method they had of getting Clay out of this damned quicksand.

"Woof!" Cerb took the line between his teeth, turned, and studied his path. Gingerly he tested the muck, his front paw sinking to his pastern, or what might be referred to as his wrist. He laid down and stretched out.

"What's he doing?" Sonny asked.

Brock scratched his head. "Not certain. Cerb, go to Clay."

Cerb turned his head back to Brock, met his eyes and ruffed before turning his gaze back to his boy. Keeping his body elongated, Cerb did a cross between a belly crawl and a swim as he made his way to Clay.

"I'll be damned. Cerb is one smart pooch. He is spreading out his weight, so it is harder for him to sink." Jason and the rest of the guys stared as Cerb carefully maneuvered himself towards Clay.

They were further surprised when Cerb didn't loop Clay's wrist as instructed, but managed to work the loop up one arm, over his head and then mouthed Clay's other arm moving it through the loop too, then tugged the line until it was under both armpits, providing a more secure and less potentially damaging link to Clay.

When he finished, Cerb began his slow trek back to Brock. "Woof, bark, bark." _I understood you perfectly, Brock. You can now pull our boy out without hurting him._

Brock hugged Cerb to him when he reached stable earth, scratched behind his ears, and rubbed some of the muck off his underbelly. "Smart boy. Owe you a steak."

Sonny and Jason pulled the line steadily, the quicksand at first not wanting to release its captive, but eventually Clay's body moved, and in short order, Trent and Brock reached for the straps of his pack on his shoulders to drag Clay to solid ground.

"SHIT!" Trent yanked his hand back as one terrifyingly huge spider crawled out of Spenser's collar and scurried towards Sonny.

Everyone expected their spider-phobic Texan to either scream like a girl or shoot the arachnid with a six-inch leg span and a body length of almost two inches which charged in his direction. Instead, Sonny's boot landed with a satisfying crunch as he smashed the object of many nightmares.

As Brock rolled Clay to his back, since he had been pulled out with his face dragging in the muck, Jason eyed Sonny with surprise. "Thought you would shoot it."

Quinn's body quivered. "Done making friends with the wildlife. That thing was in the kid's shirt … might've bitten him. Deserved to die, but I couldn't blow it away 'cause we might need to know what kind it is … specially cause Quicksand Boy ain't conscious."

Trent began to triage Clay. He checked his airway, found it open and stable with good breath sounds. The cut on his forehead turned out to be minor, wouldn't even require stitches or glue. Like the rest of them, he was covered in bug bites, but nothing accounted for his insensate condition.

He rose to take a look at the smashed spider, aware some were venomous. Trent stood and turned to Jason. "I'm not an arachnologist, and we need that identified … might be the reason Six is out. I need to know if it is dangerous and what symptoms and treatments are required if it bit him."

Jason pulled out his phone and snapped a photo. He keyed his comms. "Bravo One to Havoc."

"Good Copy, go ahead," Blackburn said as his stomach turned again.

"Six is unconscious. Sending a picture. Need someone to identify the spider and give Four details if it poisonous."

"Venomous," Trent corrected. Poisons are ingested, venom injected. He tuned out Jason's conversation as he searched Clay for puncture marks correlating to the size of the mouth, and as he did so, Clay's eyes fluttered open. "Hey, there you are."

Clay blinked several times, unsure why he was flat on his back staring up at Trent. This position was beginning to get old. The last time was when he passed out on the plane after rescuing Katie.

Sonny crouched next to Clay and put a hand on his shoulder to hold him down as Clay tried to rise. "Not so quick. Hold still a moment."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Trent questioned.

Clay took in the mud-covered face of Sonny, noting dead leaves and twigs sticking to his hair and realized he must not be the only one to take a header down the mud slide. "Um … feeling queasy, hot, miserable, turning back to peer at Sonny when he tripped, then my foot hitting nothing, falling, hitting my head. Couldn't figure how to climb back up here so walked a few feet to assess the area, and began to sink. Realizing I was in quicksand … then, um, waking here."

He pushed up, still feeling fatigued, but not enough to fall asleep without warning. Clay glanced at Cerb who sat off to the side with what he might call a quirky smile as Brock petted him.

"You still feeling queasy?" Trent queried.

"Yeah. Stomach is doing quick flips, and my head is pounding like crazy. Got some aspirin?"

Trent pulled out his temporal artery thermometer … not standard issue, more expensive than the regular one, but considered a necessity by Dr. Irving and Trent with Spenser on Bravo, so approved for his med kit. A swipe across Clay's forehead revealed the kid had an elevated temp. "Any other symptoms?"

Clay licked his lips. "Got a metallic taste in my mouth, and I'm achy."

Sonny slapped a mosquito on his hand. "Kid catch malaria?"

Trent shook his head. "Doubtful. Symptoms match, but the incubation period is seven to thirty days, and we've been in country only two. Think you can stand?"

Clay nodded. "Yeah."

Jason took a knee, bracing himself on Clay's shoulder. "Hold up. They identified the spider. Phoneutria, venomous. The neurotoxin causes loss of muscle control, breathing problems, priapism, and intense pain and inflammation at the bite site."

"What the hell is priapism?" Sonny asked.

It was not a laughing matter, but Trent grinned despite himself as he said, "A condition in which a penis remains erect for hours in the absence of stimulation."

Clay paled, and his eyes dropped to his groin, Sonny laughed, Brock smirked, and Jason patted Clay's back.

"Don't think you need to worry about that unless you were bitten somewhere, I didn't see. Any excruciating pain?"

"No. Wait? What spider?"

"The huge-assed one that crawled out of your shirt after we pulled you out of the quicksand. It's over there if you want to check it out." Brock pointed to Clay's left. "Sonny squashed it."

Clay's brows arched. "He didn't shoot it?"

"Couldn't, little buddy. If the damned thing bit you, we needed to know if it could kill you." Sonny stood, his butt on fire still, and he rubbed it trying to relieve the pain. "Can't get out of this damned place soon enough."

Jason turned to Trent. "He good to travel?"

"Yeah, not on point, though. Running a fever … need him in the middle to keep an eye on him." Trent handed a bottle of water and a couple of pills to Clay. "Might be the flu or a cold … only piece which doesn't fit is the metallic taste. If you start feeling worse or any other symptoms crop up you tell me." He gave Clay a stern eye.

"Got it." Clay rose with the help of both Jason and Sonny, and that is when he noticed the rope around his chest. "How'd you get this on me? Sonny lasso me like a steer?"

"Nope. That's all Cerb." Brock beamed with pride.

"Thanks, bud." Clay gave Cerb a quick scratch and a couple of pats. He peered up the ravine as Ray tossed down another line which he secured to a tree. Climbing seemed almost too much of a challenge at the moment, but he would suck it up … he wouldn't allow a stupid, little cold to bring him down. He did his best to ignore and quell the need to puke as he gripped the rope and began to haul himself up the ravine.

Clay made it to the top, just in time to drop to his knees and expel the contents of his stomach. What surprised him is Sonny joined him in the vomit-fest. Trent scanned both with the temporal thermometer when they finished heaving, noting both possessed fevers.

As Trent assessed Sonny's symptoms, Jason leaned on a tree, placing a hand on his abdomen as it rolled, a metallic taste forming in his mouth as bile started to rise. Ah, crap … how much worse can this day get? He was bending over the bushes the next moment, ralphing.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: QRF, Quarantined, and Quadfecta**

 _ **Aeropuerto International – Bravo Plane**_

Eric spent the last fifteen minutes praying to the porcelain god, though in this case, it was a utilitarian metal toilet. He slumped to the floor of the plane's latrine and wiped the snot from his nose and spit again into the bowl. Sweat trickled down his face, and he felt miserable, his muscles aching. "Damned food poisoning. Bet it was the quesadilla last night."

Knocking, hating to disturb the lieutenant, Petty Officer Dale Quincy, Davis' replacement for this mission, called out, "Sir, we have a problem."

 _No shit._ Blackburn forced himself to his feet, his head pounding. "A moment."

"Sir, I'm not sure what to tell Bravo," Quincy continued not heeding his CO.

Flushing the evidence of his meals, which tasted better going down than up, Eric yanked open the door in no mood to deal with the non-Davis logistics guy. He already missed her … though she would make a damned fine officer. "What's the issue?"

Quincy gaped at the officer, noting his sweaty face and a few traces of what might be vomit on his shirt. "Are you sick, Sir?"

Doing his best not to show how crappy he felt, Eric pushed out of the room to the sink, needing to rinse his mouth. "Tell me what's wrong with Bravo."

"I didn't say anything was wr…" Quincy trailed off when Blackburn glared at him. He stepped back, realizing how this man came to command the elite team. He should've listened to his buddies who said Lieutenant Commander Blackburn was a force to be reckoned with … he had to be to the quarterback and to tame the infamous Master Chief Hayes.

"Um, yeah … well, the 2IC—"

"Perry."

"Yeah, well, Perry called in to say four of the men are down."

"Down? What are their injuries? What hostile force did they encounter? Did Quirós' men follow or come at them from a different direction?" Eric scanned the plane wishing he had not sent Derek and Full Metal with Ellis. With four of Bravo down, he needed to arrange a QRF and fast.

"Sir, um down might be an overstatement … um more like, well, throwing up."

"Who?" Eric figured Jason to be one if Ray was making contact.

"One, Three, Four, and Six."

"Shit. Trent's ill too." Eric rinsed his mouth, splashed water on his face, raked hands through his hair, slicking it back to dry them. "Perry give any indication of what they're dealing with besides puking. What did he request?"

"He, well, wanted to say he didn't think they would make it to the exfil location in time. Wanted to know if there was another option to retrieve them sooner. Three and Six are running high fevers in addition to upchucking. He's not sure they can hike out. Everything went downhill fast is what he said."

"What about the spider? Six bitten?"

"Perry didn't say."

Eric strode to the comms area needing more information. Just as he picked up the mic, Derek trotted up the ramp.

"Blackburn, we got a problem."

 _Another one?_ Eric sighed. "What?"

"Ms. Ellis … she's real sick. Can't stop hurling, sweating, and is hot to the touch. She is suffering from stomach pains and a headache too. John's carrying her from the car."

"Have Dennis check her. Bravo is in the same boat … might need to drop you guys in to assist." Eric leaned over and panted to quell his nausea.

"You don't look so good yourself, sir." Derek slid a chair close to Eric and pushed him into it.

"Been better." Eric spied John with Mandy in his arms. Her hair plastered to her head, and her face pale. "What the hell is going on? Until we figure this out, consider Ellis and myself quarantined. Quincy, break out the masks for everyone else to wear."

The petty officer turned to do as instructed.

John strode over to Blackburn after putting Ellis on a gurney. "Sir, Dennis said Bravo is sick too. What can I do to help?"

Dropping the mic, Eric bent over and began heaving again, but they were dry-heaves now. Alpha One, as senior rank, took over. John had Derek take Blackburn to the back next to Mandy. He communicated with Ray, got the sitrep from him, provided details of what was occurring in Havoc, and told them to sit tight as he worked on a way to extract them.

* * *

 _ **Jungle**_

Clay curled up on the jungle floor, sharp pains stabbing his gut and his breaths coming in short quick pants as his body quivered with chills while he sweated bullets. Whatever the hell this was, because no way was this a cold, he wanted to die to end his misery.

With bleary eyes, Clay's vision not as keen as it should be, he peered at Jason who lay next to him, noting he was not the only one a quaking mess. Witnessing the pain lines etched deep in his team leader's face, Clay could almost swear he heard the drums playing in Jason's head in concert with those in his own.

He rolled to his other side, unable to witness the mighty Jason Hayes felled by whatever ailed them, only to be presented with an equally disturbing image … Trent on his knees, puking his guts out. They were up the proverbial creek not only without a paddle but without a fucking boat too. The shit was hitting the fan worse than their previous mission when they and Alpha Team were literally knee deep in sheep dung … not a pleasant op.

With only Ray and Brock still on their feet, currently not showing any signs of illness, Clay wondered how long it would be before they were all incapacitated. He glanced at Quinn, his worry escalating. Before Trent succumbed, he started an IV on Sonny, who passed out … perhaps like what happened to him in the quicksand and what he wished would occur now … just to escape the pain.

Brock crouched beside Clay and lifted his head. "Drink."

"Can't."

"Yes, you can. Now take a sip." Brock tipped the water bottle to Clay's lips and let a little dribble in. "Good. Gotta stay hydrated."

Clay swallowed, hoping it stayed down. The mere act of Brock lifting his head fatigued him … and his wish came true … his eyes rolled back and he blacked out.

"Crap! The kid is out now too." Brock shifted on the balls of his feet to peer at Perry who was checking Quinn's temperature again. "How long did Full Metal say it would take to get to us?"

"Didn't, said he would do his best, but with Blackburn and Ellis down, he's missing Davis' skills. Quincy doesn't have her magic at procuring what we need before we need it." Ray blew out a breath as he stood. The heat of the mid-day getting to him as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

He glanced at their HVT. He tied Quirós to a tree when Sonny dropped and things went to hell. The man remained quiet the entire time … almost too quiet and it gave him an uneasy sense of dread. As if Quirós might be aware of what befell his team.

Ray considered the mission thus far. They reached the compound where Mandy's contact said Quirós would be. They couldn't confirm anything with ISR, not that it had not been authorized, but because the thick jungle canopy prevented a view to the buildings.

Based on intel, there were four buildings. They broke off in pairs, Jason and Clay, Sonny and Trent, him and Brock with Cerb. The first two teams came up empty in their search, But Cerb alerted Brock and him to Quirós and everyone converged on their location. They took out five hostiles who tried to protect Quirós, and apprehended him without much effort.

They high-tailed it out, expecting more of Quirós' men to flood out of the fourth structure after the gunfire … but no one followed. Which he had initially given thanks for, but now wondered why especially with how fast his teammates became sick.

* * *

 _ **Helo**_

Full Metal glanced at Major Espinosa, glad for the support and the man's ability to quickly get him a helicopter capable of evacing Jason and his team. Bravo saving the Ecuadorian major's life when Carlson went rogue and participated in an attempted coup, meant Espinosa was more than willing to assist.

"Almost there." Espinosa shouted to the American SEAL after receiving word from the pilot. The men set to work rigging the stokes to the hoist, this would be easier than hauling them up by hand, though if it came to that, John would use every ounce of his energy to save his brothers.

Derek and Dennis gave John a thumbs up, both ready to fast line through the small break in the canopy. Dennis, Alpha's medic would triage the men down below while Derek helped Brock and Ray to load them one by one into the stokes so they could be brought aboard.

* * *

 _ **Next Day – Virginia – Naval Base – Quarantine**_

A seldom used building near the airfield had been a hornet's nest of activity even before Bravo's plane touched down and taxied next to it. The quarantine facilities geared up under the direction of Dr. Irving, preparing to receive eight severely ill elite SEALs, their commander, one CIA agent, and an HVT.

All presented with nausea, vomiting, stomach pains, chills, muscle aches and weakness, headaches, and fatigue. Several suffered high fevers, and three, Jason, Clay and the HVT also reported a metallic taste and changes in their vision and speech. Spenser and Quinn appeared to be in the most critical condition, neither regaining consciousness since they became insensate in the jungle.

In a quandary, since the symptomology could be several things, many contagious, Dr. Irving ordered everyone in the plane, including the flight crew, and the aircraft itself quarantined. The ill were moved to the specialized medical care unit and the non-sick or symptomless in another area for observation until they figured out what they were dealing with.

Irving sat at his desk outside a full glass window giving him view into the individual glass-walled rooms of Jason, Ray, Sonny, Trent, Brock, Clay, Derek, Dennis, Eric, Mandy, and Mr. Quirós. He blew out a breath as he reviewed the toxicology reports on the monitor searching for a common factor.

Dr. Lucien, affectionately called Dr. Death by the men of Bravo, approached Irving with the latest blood serum reports, wanting to deliver them personally. These men he liked and jumped at the chance to help. "Brought news regarding Hayes, Spenser, and Quirós."

"What did you find?"

"You are right, the symptoms cross many things, but a metallic taste reminded me of something I studied a few years ago. They've been exposed to quicksilver."

"Mercury?"

"Yes. Although a liquid at room temperature, quicksilver vaporizes into the air and can be a by-product of burning coal for power. Mr. Quirós shows a significant level, and although Hayes' and Spenser's levels are minuscule in comparison, they must've been exposed to a high concentration, likely inhaled, which caused an acute reaction.

"Treatment for our guys in addition to the decontamination they had upon arrival will be to avoid consumption of seafood which may contain mercury and observation. I do not foresee any long-term issues for them given the limited exposure.

"However, Mr. Quirós is not so lucky. We should start chelation therapy to bind the heavy metals in the bloodstream, but I suspect his kidneys are already shutting down and he will require dialysis to live."

Irving accepted the printouts from Lucien as he said, "We should test the rest of the team too, but mercury poisoning does not account for many of the symptoms."

"Already did. They showed no sign of quicksilver exposure. So you are right. We're dealing with more than one thing here." Lucien took a seat, and the two doctors began to discuss potential causes.

* * *

 _ **Two Days Later – Naval Base – Quarantine**_

Eric entered the common room of his men after being held in isolation for the last three days. The nurses and doctors entering his room had to wear gowns, gloves, and masks to prevent passing on the infection and becoming Typhoid Mary … not that he contracted typhoid, but the commonplace _Salmonella enteritidis_ , seen back in the States every summer. Most likely from the questionable quesadilla, which would change his habit of eating local cuisine.

Jason sat up, glad his vision had cleared, and nausea had abated. "How are you feeling, Eric?"

"Bout as good as any of you. We're off rotation for at least another four weeks." Eric took a seat, still a little fatigued.

"How's Mandy doing?" Jason queried.

"Still not up to par. Malaria threw her for a loop. They've got her on medication, and she'll be off for several weeks too." Eric scanned Brock, Trent, Ray, Derek, and Dennis, who were playing cards at a table. "The boys doing okay being cooped up here?"

Jason nodded. "For the most part. Doc said he would release those five and me tomorrow. He wants to keep Sonny and Clay for a few more days due to their combined issues." He raked a hand through his hair as he peered at the two who were still sleeping.

Eric nodded. "This hit them both harder than the rest."

"Yeah, Doc figured they had greater exposure to the Q fever bacterium in New South Wales than the rest of us when Clay helped Sonny deliver that lamb. Irving correlated our mission there three weeks ago to a significant outbreak in the region.

"Almost want to make Sonny run hills for his stunt … but, well, his heart was in the right place, and Clay was roped into helping the big lug. And they would've been infected anyway when we all ended up having to take cover in that field filled with sheep dung."

Eric sighed. "This is surely one for the history books. A quadfecta of issues. Me with food poisoning, Mandy with malaria, you and Clay with quicksilver exposure, and all of Bravo, plus Dennis and Derek coming down with Q fever."

Jason's gaze landed on Sonny. "Don't forget about the infection and rash Quinn got on his ass due to the quills."

A slight snicker erupted from Eric. "Not an injury Quinn's gonna live down anytime soon."

Turning his attention to Blackburn, Jason became serious. "Were you able to figure out why we encountered so little resistance when grabbing Quirós?"

"Yes. Got a report this morning. It appears Quirós was aware of his failing kidneys due to the mercury. He leaked his whereabouts, realizing the U.S. wouldn't pass up an opportunity to capture him. He counted on exchanging his knowledge for medical care … namely dialysis and a chance for a kidney transplant."

Jason scowled. "Tell me he is only going to get dialysis … that scum doesn't deserve a transplant."

"Unknown … out of our hands. You boys did your job." Eric stood. "Get some rest and enjoy some quality time with your kids for the next few weeks." Eric moved to each of the guys, thanking them for a job well done, but he didn't disturb Sonny or Clay … he would talk with them later.

As he left, Eric shook his head. _What a quixotic mission and set of circumstances._

* * *

 _ **Four Weeks Later – Bravo Cages**_

"HA, HA, VERY FUNNY! WHICH ONE OF YOU IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?" Quinn bellowed as he stared at his cage with disbelief on his first day back on base after a relaxing four-week break … one he needed to recover his strength after contracting Q fever.

Everyone snickered as they shook their heads, not claiming responsibility for the state of Sonny's cage.

Sonny unlocked his door and swung it open, as stuffed porcupines, lambs, and long, green snakes spilled out. The entire cage crammed to the rafters with the plush toys.

"I'm gonna find out, and then you'll be sorry you messed with this Texan." Sonny started chucking the animals at the others full force, which instigated a free-for-all.

A room full of full-grown, bad-ass SEALs, laughing and behaving like boys in an all-out pillow fight greeted Eric when he came to notify Bravo they were needed in the briefing room in two hours to review a new package Mandy brought for them.

Eric chuckled, pivoted, and left them to their fun … Quinn would never figure out he was the one who arranged to fill his cage … with a little help from Davis who also supplied him the name of a charity who would be happy to receive the stuffed toys after Bravo was finished throwing them at each other.

.

 _The End_

* * *

 **AN:** I realize this one is shorter and a bit different, and I didn't do the whole recovery thing, but this just felt right for the ending. Hope you enjoyed. Now to refocus on my novel for a week or so as ideas for AI-R percolate in my mind.


	18. Rescuing the Rookie

**Rescuing the Rookie**

* * *

 _Summary:_ Clay has only been with Bravo a short while when they are spun up for a protection mission. An RPG attack separates Clay and a repulsive protectee from the rest of Bravo team in an area filled with rebels bent on killing them. Can Clay keep himself and the woman alive until Bravo can find and rescue them ... or will her actions cost Clay his life?

 _Notes:_ Wanted to do another rookie Clay story ... before he was sure his brothers would always come for him and before he felt like they were his family. Love the angst of him not knowing and having to rely on himself ... until he can't and then his brothers come along.

 _Since this is so long, there are 9 chapter breaks to help you mark your place._

* * *

 **Chapter 1: RPGs and Repulsive RaRa**

 _ **Democratic Republic of the Congo – Clay's Location**_

"RUN!" Clay ordered as he grabbed the sleeve of the celebrity Raechella Rake, known as RaRa to her fans, and shoved her towards a building. He gritted his teeth as the annoying woman, who refused to replace her high heels with the serviceable boots Davis offered before they left the aircraft, stumbled with every damned step. When one of the spiked heels snapped, Clay caught her before she face-planted in the rubble. Her uneven hobble further impeded their race for a defensible spot.

"MOVE IT!"

"Don't you yell at me!" Raechella growled. "This is all your fault and now you are going to pay for my shoes. They are custom made by Roberto … five thousand dollars."

Clay would've laughed, but he didn't have time. His job, whether he liked it or not, was to ensure Miss Rake stayed alive. Whoever authorized her trip to this war-torn hellhole should be raked over hot coals … or at least be the one saddled with babysitting her. But no … that duty fell to him as rookie of Bravo. To be honest, he lost the rock, paper, scissor throwdown with Brock when the more senior members pointed to them to be the ones to manage the rude and haughty celeb.

Three feet to relative safety from flying bullets, Clay overheard Ray in his headset, "Bravo Six, down NOW!"

Without reservation or hesitation, Clay launched himself at RaRa, taking them both to the ground. His body covered her as an RPG hit the third floor of the structure that he planned to take cover in. Rubble rained down on them, ramming into his back, making him happy for the cushioning his pack and the protection his armor plate provided him.

Although he used his arms to partially cover his head, one fairly large rock, brick, piece of mud-concrete … whatever, smacked the side of his skull, ringing his bell, and making him wish he wore a helmet today, but being incognito had been the plan of the day, so no helmet.

As soon as the debris quit raining, Clay gained his feet, dragging RaRa up with him. Though damaged, this building would provide refuge and give him a moment to reassess his options without them being as exposed. Once inside, he lowered his now quiet charge to the floor, and peered out the doorway, hoping to locate his teammates. Being separated from them would be a surefire way to end up dead.

He pushed away the images of the van exploding in front of their car after being hit by an RPG. The men inside never had a chance. Though he didn't know the FARDC soldiers who were killed, their deaths as far as Clay was concerned were a senseless waste in a conflict which tore apart this country for twenty-three years.

Sighting a man on the roof across the plaza with a rocket-propelled launcher pointing in his direction, Clay sent a bullet down range, and pink mist bursting from the man's head told him it was a kill shot. Though Ray had warned him to get down, Clay now wondered where he and the rest of Bravo were. He didn't see them.

"Bravo Six to Bravo One."

Silence met his call.

"Six to any Bravo element."

Nothing.

"Havoc, do you copy?"

When he received no answer, Clay grabbed his radio from his waist, and the reason became obvious. The durable device was no match for bullets. He thanked whatever fate allowed the slugs to find a home in the radio instead of him. The grating voice of RaRa pulled his attention from the outside.

"You didn't have to land on me. I was running as fast as I could. You ripped my designer shirt. That will be another two thousand added to your bill." Raechella scowled up at the soldier as she took off her shoe to dump out the offending gravel.

Having had enough, Clay bit out, "Saved your fucking life. I'd call us even. Besides, all my money is taken up buying beer." Clay couldn't believe the last slipped out, but it was the truth. He probably owed the team at least a dozen cases for all the firsts of this mission.

Rubbing the side of his head, Clay's fingers came away damp with blood which he wiped on his pants. He figured the rock must've created a gash, but he didn't have time to worry about a minor injury.

Too wrapped up in her own little world to notice the soldier's head bled, Raechella spat out, "Don't you cuss at me. You will speak with respect or I will be informing your commanding officer of your foul language and rough handling."

Clay could only stare … thinking the dye used to color her hair radish-red must've seeped in and caused brain damage. His life as well as the ridiculous celeb's depended solely on him until he could locate the team. He turned away from her to peer outside.

Squinting his eyes against the bright midday sun, he wished hadn't lost his Ray-Ban sunglasses when RaRa slapped his face as he pulled her from the car right before another RPG blew it to hell like the one in front of them. His head pounding, Clay focused on searching the possible positions the others might've taken cover.

He had only run a few ops with Bravo, still surprised the Great Jason Hayes selected him, but his training kicked in and his gaze hunted for his scattered teammates. Clay realized Ray at least spotted where he was headed if he called out the warning to him. Now he had to decide if staying put or moving out would be the safest course of action.

Unfortunately, the decision was made for him in the next moment. He turned, crouched, grabbed the shoe from RaRa's hand, snapped off the spike and shoved it on her foot. After pulling the reluctant woman to her feet as she ranted at him about breaking her shoe, he pushed her to the rear of the room.

They needed to haul ass or the massive number of ADF rebels arriving in technical vehicles would overrun them in less than five minutes. Their only chance of survival would be finding transport or a hidey-hole, and Clay hoped for a vehicle of some sort because it was unlikely RaRa would be able to keep her trap shut unless he shoved a rag in her mouth to gag her.

* * *

 _ **Havoc**_

Richard Wimbly got into the lieutenant commander's face, and spittle came with his ranting, "What do you mean you lost her? How could you lose RaRa?"

Blackburn wiped his face but didn't back down. "A rebel force ambushed them."

"How? I thought you were supposed to be hot-shit, the best."

Undaunted by the rat-faced man, Davis answered, "Perhaps if you didn't publicize her visit and route, the rebels wouldn't have decided she would be easy to take for ransom."

"But RaRa is loved. Her adoring fans would want to come out to see here. A rare opportunity for them," Richard retorted.

Eric turned back to the comms, giving a slight nod to Davis to relocate the slimy public relations representative for RaRa. If anyone was to blame for this going off the rails, it was Wimbly. The man blatantly ignored all their security protocols, which were meant to keep RaRa safe, by tweeting and posting her travel details on facebook.

It pissed him off, mostly because it put his team at risk too. As evidenced by them nearly being blown up by RPGs. He lifted the mic and said, "Havoc to Bravo One, sitrep."

* * *

 _ **DRC – Bravo's Position**_

As Trent splinted and wrapped his wrist, Jason replied, "Bravo One. No change. Bravo Three, Bravo Six, and the protectee still unaccounted for. Two is up top scanning for Three. The rebels converged on the building Six headed to with our protectee, but they aren't celebrating, so somehow the rookie managed to get the hell out. Just don't know in what direction he went. Smoke is too thick from the fires to see much."

"How's your wrist?"

"Sprained, but usable. Not an issue."

"Can you hold your position? Are the rebels aware of your presence?"

"Under the radar for now."

Ray cut in, "Found Three. We gotta get him. He's buried in the rubble … looks like his leg is stuck, but other than that he is moving. We need to move now … a group will be on him in less than two mikes."

Racing down the stairs, Ray met Jason, Trent, and Brock at the bottom, and led the way to Sonny.

As they rounded the corner, Sonny had already rendered two of the eight lifeless, but being trapped with no cover, if they hadn't arrived when they did, Quinn would've met the Grim Reaper today. The gunfire alerted other rebels who came running. Brock and Trent rushed to uncover Sonny as Jason and Ray picked off rebels who were retarded enough to poke their heads up.

Once freed, Sonny tried to stand on his own, but pain radiated up his right leg, and Trent noted blood covering his jeans. They were not wearing uniforms for this op, supposed to keep a lower profile, so they wore street clothes with their dark vests.

Trent swung Sonny's arm over his shoulder. Brock took point, glad Cerb had not come with them. Jason and Ray covered their rear as they rushed for another building. They entered and exited out the back, ran down the alley, in through another house, out the front, and continued through the maze of buildings before putting enough distance between them and the rebels so Trent could check Sonny's wound.

* * *

 _ **DRC – Clay's Location**_

Surprised the singer was not winded by their mad dash, Clay realized she probably exercised … which worked in their favor at the moment … the only thing which did. The rebels continued to follow, no matter how many turns he made.

Clay was running low on ammo … though he supposed that was another thing going for him … he was able to hit each target he aimed at and so conserved what little he did have. Halting at the next corner, Clay took a breath and peeked. Relieved to find it clear, he moved again, and his shadow, who had become quiet, gripped his pack and followed him step for step.

Near the outskirts of the town, city, whatever, with the houses and covering becoming sparser, he needed to find a location for them to rest and hide while he got his bearings and could determine how the hell to get them out of here alive. Approaching a door, he stopped again, just as the rusty hinges squeaked as it opened. Clay had his weapon ready to take out the person if they posed a risk.

A teenage girl's brown eyes widened, not at the gun, which didn't appear to faze her, but at the woman behind the man. "RaRa … RaRa." She went on to ramble in French, gushing over her favorite singer.

Fortunately, Clay understood and asked in the same language if anyone else was in the house. When she shook her head, Clay gripped her arm as he pushed his way in, RaRa following as he said, "Your lucky day, RaRa wants to visit with you."

Once inside, Clay rapidly cleared the structure, a tin, one room, ramshackle then took up a sentry position at the door.

Raechella peered at the ruthless man she had initially believed to be a baby-faced rookie. But he killed over a dozen men without blinking an eye, and it made her sick to her stomach. She didn't speak the language, so she had no idea what he said to the girl, and she was only glad he didn't shoot her too. She sank to the floor, her feet aching … running in broken high heels was not fun.

Without taking his eyes off the window, checking for threats, Clay asked the young girl, whose name was Ryta if anyone else lived here and when they would return. He found out only her mother and she shared the place. Her mom wouldn't be home until after dark, having to work long hours to earn enough to buy food and send her to school. She rattled on how she got to listen to RaRa's music at school because her teacher liked the artist.

When a cup appeared before her, Raechella curled her lip in a sneer. "What is this?"

Clay glanced over. "Ryta is offering you water. I have a bottle in my pack which would be safer … don't want dysentery." Shifting off his backpack, a stab of pain made itself known in his side. He hissed as he pulled out two bottles and a candy bar. Speaking French, he held out the candy to Ryta and told her RaRa had to drink special water and not to be offended by her not accepting her kind offer.

"What did you say to her?" Raechella asked as she twisted off the top and guzzled half the water.

"That you appreciated her kindness and wanted her to have the chocolate as a treat."

"But don't we need those supplies if someone doesn't come to get us before nightfall?"

The redheaded woman before him disgusted Clay. So self-absorbed and clueless to the suffering of people around the globe. He witnessed her repulsed expressions as they toured the orphanage and school she was supposedly funding. Clay quickly grasped the only reason RaRa was here was self-promotion and a publicity stunt after she had been lambasted in the press back home for some offensive and racist comments she made.

Clay uncapped his water and sipped. The pain in his right side required him to check it out. His hand came away damp again, and he brought it forward, finding blood. "Well, shit." He lifted his shirt and tried to twist his head to see if he needed to do more than just slap a bandage on it, but he couldn't, so he turned to RaRa. "How big is the gash, is it deep?"

Raechella gagged and ralphed.

Ryta raced forward, grabbing the only stool in the place, speaking rapid-fire French telling him to sit, her hands reaching out to help.

With Ryta's assistance, Clay determined it was not a major wound, yet not so minor as he could ignore it. His med-kit came with a staple gun, and the teen pulled the ragged edges of his skin together and with his instruction stapled him closed. Miss Rake only gaped at them after she finished puking.

Pulling his shirt down, Clay stood, and handed the pleasant and helpful teen another candy bar, thanking her for assisting him. His gaze returned to RaRa, and his grin faded. "Time to go. The rebels will kill Ryta if we are found here, and I certainly don't want that to happen."

"But we can't go out there. They will find us." Raechella backed up as fear increased. "Besides, I can't walk anymore. My feet hurt. You ruined my shoes."

Clay seized RaRa's arm. "We're leaving. Had you taken the boots Davis offered, your feet wouldn't hurt."

"They weren't designer. I can't be seen in something so tacky and rustic. I have an image … a brand to protect."

Muttering under his breath, Clay said, "And I have a rash, spoiled brat with no sense to protect."

"What did you say?"

"Let's go. Now!" Clay tugged the revolting woman to the door. "Keep your mouth shut and do as I tell you and you might live."

"Might?" Raechella's mouth went dry. "You mean you will kill me if I don't?"

"You're fucking ridiculous. Do you possess even one brain cell? If I wanted you dead … which quite frankly is surprisingly not as abhorrent as I once thought, I would've let the dozen men I killed have you."

Clay's words had the desired effect. The stupid redhead shut her pie-hole as her eyes widened. He realized if they got out of this with their lives intact, he would probably be dressed down by both Blackburn and Hayes for his rash words, but at this point, his head and side hurt too much to give a damn. He needed to find a way back to Bravo and get rid of this responsibility.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Regrouping and River Crossing**

 _ **Havoc**_

Jason deposited Sonny on a gurney near the entrance, leaving him in Trent's care. They lucked out and found a truck which they used to exit the area crawling with rebels. It was one of the hardest decisions he made to retreat without Clay, but they would all be dead if they hadn't. They would regroup, jock up, resupply, and rescue their rookie. He hoped in the time it took them to race back to the airport, Blackburn had found something to give them lead on Spenser's whereabouts.

Richard Wimbly glared when five members of Bravo came up the ramp. He went on the offensive, singling out the leader. "Why did you leave RaRa out there. Get your asses back there and find her!"

Jason kept walking, disregarding the repugnant rat he deemed responsible for the RPG attack which separated him from his rookie and yeah, his protectee too. His destination was Blackburn who gathered with Ellis and Davis around the ISR feed. They needed a plan, resources, and a heaping ration of luck if they were gonna find and rescue Clay. "Eric, what do you have for me?"

Grabbing hold of the soldier, Richard roared, "DON'T YOU IGNORE ME!"

Whipping around, his uninjured hand ramming Wimbly into the racks on the side of the plane, Jason pinned the singer's rep with a steely glare radiating barely controlled rage. If his wrist wasn't sprained and he needed it to be in somewhat working order to help the kid, the repulsive man's teeth would be down his throat … courtesy of his fist.

"Don't you touch me again or I'll rip your fucking head off and repatriate it up your ass. You're the reason my rookie is out there alone trying to keep himself and your precious RaRa alive. So back off, sit the fuck down, shut your goddamn mouth, and let me do my job."

Eric's brows arched, not because of Jason's words, but because of the restraint he showed. "Jace, we might have a location. Davis captured an image about ten minutes ago of two people on the edge of the town."

Ray joined Jason to view the footage and review the maps of the area. Meanwhile, Brock was jocking up Cerb and locating one of Clay's t-shirts to give the hair missile a scent to work with once they got close.

Trent had Sonny drop his pants and began to clean the wound which required stitching. On the way back, Sonny argued with both Jason and him that he was fine to go when they located Spenser. Assessing the gash, Trent shook his head. "Think you need to sit this one out."

"Like hell. Clean it, sew it, and I'll be ready. Not leaving that kid out there. Got some serious payback in mind." Sonny eyed Trent. He refused to be put on the injured reserve.

Holding his tongue, already aware Sonny tried to reach Spenser right after they exited the vehicles as the rebels launched RPGs from several directions. It was how Sonny ended up buried in the rubble. Trent also understood Quinn would do whatever necessary to get their brother back … they all wanted revenge for the actions of the rebels. "Can't give you anything strong to reduce the pain, if you're coming with us."

"Don't need anything. Do it. Git 'er done so I can restock my ammo." Sonny gritted his teeth as Trent rinsed out the wound. He might pop a few ibuprofen tablets, but that's all. He needed to be sharp and would use his discomfort to strengthen his resolve to get their pain-in-the-ass, overconfident, and reckless rookie back. Then he would read the kid the riot act for running the wrong damned way.

* * *

 _ **DRC – Near River**_

Clay pressed on his side, wanting to rest, but they were not yet in a place he felt comfortable stopping. He edged round the corner of the building, hoping he gave the slip to the last group of relentless rebels. He needed to conserve what ammo he had left because, at this point, he figured he and Miss Rake would be spending the night in this wretched place.

"I'm tired. I gotta rest." Raechella leaned on the mud hut house and wrinkled her nose at the revolting stench. "What is that rancid smell?"

"The river … they use it for refuse and sewage. Don't get any in your mouth when we cross." Clay took a deep breath … as deep as his sore ribs would allow. Although his pack and armor saved him from busted bones, the pummeling his body received as the rubble fell on him left him bruised and feeling the aches now.

"I'm not wading in a cesspool. You're out of your cotton-picking mind if you think for one moment you can drag me through there."

"Drag you, I will. Better to deal with a little crap than stay here and end up being raped if they catch you."

"Raped? They wouldn't dare. I'm RaRa."

"They wouldn't give a damn if you were the Reverend Mother. Women are subjected to all manner of degradation here. We need to make it to the trees … then you can relax for a few minutes."

Clay started forward, glanced back, and sighed when RaRa refused to move. "Coming of your own volition or would you rather remain here and be gang raped?"

Reluctantly, Raechella followed. _This reprehensible man will rue the day he treated me so shoddily. He might be riding all high-handed now, but I'm going to make sure his commander knows what a raunchy person he is and he will be reprimanded … might even get kicked out of the military … serves him right._

Halfway across, RaRa slipped. Clay had to dive after her, and she came up sputtering, ranting, and swinging at Spenser. Clay hissed as she landed a hit to his stapled side. He wanted to shove her face under the water in retaliation and to silence her before she attracted the notice of the rebels, but he kept hold of her arm and dragged with him, ensuring she didn't drown.

They reached the opposite bank of the river, RaRa's rage in full form, not heeding Clay's repeated orders to be quiet. The shots which rang out were what finally shut her trap. Clay thrust RaRa in front of him and urged her to run, using his body to shield hers as well as possible.

Searing pain burned his arm as a bullet passed through it. Clay didn't have time to think much about his discomfort. Gaining cover of the trees, he pushed RaRa down as he pivoted and began returning fire. When the skirmish ended, ten rebels floated downstream with the rest of the rubbish.

Wanting nothing more than to rest, Clay took a moment to pull out a piece of gauze, tearing off just enough to wrap his bleeding arm to stem the loss of vital fluid. He would do what he could to clean it later, once he found a safer place to stop for a five-minute respite. Clay pulled out a bandana to wipe his face of sweat and river water.

Standing, needing to put distance between them and other rebels who might be drawn by the gunfire, he seized RaRa's arm again and yanked her up. "Ten more men are dead because you couldn't keep your damned mouth shut. If you don't keep quiet, I'm shoving this rag in your rapacious fly-trap and gagging you."

Raechella glared defiantly at the grubby rag in his hand. "You wouldn't da—"

Clay rammed cloth in her mouth and jerked her forward. _I'm so done with her shit … if she wasn't my mission, I would be tempted to leave the reprehensible bitch to her fate._ Clay dug deep for his reserves … he needed every ounce of his stamina and patience to get out of this alive and without killing RaRa himself.

After spitting out the offensive fabric, Raechella curbed her tongue. _I'm gonna ruin this SEALs career. He can't treat me like this and get away without repercussions._

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Raring to Go and Repayment for Protection**

 _ **Havoc**_

After a delay, getting authorization from the local government to operate hot in conjunction with the DRC military, the men of Bravo plus support were jocked up and raring to go. They were about to stride down the ramp to join the locals when Davis called out, "Got something!"

Jason hurried over with Ray and Trent behind him. Brock led Cerb down to do his business before leaving, and Sonny remained where he was, his leg throbbing and figuring he wasn't needed so would conserve his strength for when it mattered.

The group watched as Clay and RaRa crossed the river, cringed when the kid had to dive after her, grimaced when the singer hit Clay, and he dragged her out. The ensuing firefight left them a little in awe of their rookie … he was damned good to take out ten on his own while corralling the RaRa beast.

Trent's eye caught something the others missed. "I think he was hit in the arm … the way his body jerked."

"Make sure your med-kit contains the supplies we might need," Jason said before getting the coordinates from Davis to relay to their partner force who were supplying transportation and additional firepower for the rescue mission.

They rushed down and out, grateful for an exact location, but ticked it was at least twenty minutes from their current position. Anything could happen in that span of time.

Sonny rubbed his sore leg after he hopped into the back of one of the trucks with the rest of the team and said, "These Congolians—"

"Congolese," Ray corrected.

"Congo-bongos for all I care, if the rebels harm a hair on our rookie's head, I'm gonna be having me a Texas Roasting?"

"Aw, you like the kid," Trent quipped, keeping from Sonny the potential Spenser had already been harmed … and more than just a hair.

"Didn't say that," Sonny groused.

"But you're all defensive." Trent's eyebrow arched in a challenge.

"Nah, … just we got the pup partially house-trained. Don't want to be startin' all over." Sonny unconsciously rubbed his leg again.

Trent didn't miss the action but kept quiet on that front too. A slight grin grew as he thought about Clay's and Sonny's interactions. Their rookie appeared to be getting under the Texan's skin. Would be interesting to watch that relationship grow, cause once the Mighty Quinn deemed someone worthwhile, he became their staunchest supporter. And there was just something about the blond mop of cocky bravado which drew them all to him. He hoped they got to him in time.

* * *

 _ **Rainforest**_

RaRa's silence only lasted a few minutes before she began bitching again. For the most part, Clay ignored the rude commentary flowing from her mouth. The woman was a real piece of work, and her true colors revealed an ugly soul who only cared about herself and material items.

Fatigued, Clay forced himself to keep moving. His head throbbed with every heartbeat. His arm had gone numb, which couldn't be a good thing, but at least it didn't hurt. His side ached, the staples tugging with every step.

He was sweating and cold at the same time, which Clay understood meant infection must've set in … how could it not with his swim in a river filled with raw sewage. If only RaRa had not slipped, he could've prevented introducing more bacteria to the gash. The through-and-through didn't help much on that front too. His shirt had been doused in the garbage, and the bullet's route dragged the fabric through his body, likely leaving a trail of nasty waste.

"I'm tired. I have blisters. You need to carry me. I can't walk anymore. It hurts. This is all your fault … you will carry me … now!" Raechella demanded.

His knees buckling, Clay hit the dirt. He shifted to his butt and leaned against a tree.

"Get up and get me out of here … NOW!" Raechella put both hands on her hips, her face florid with anger.

Clay peered up at RaRa, his eyes glassy with fever. "Sit. Rest."

"But you said we needed to keep going. The rebels …" Raechella sat on a fallen log and slipped off one shoe. "See a massive blister. I will be sending you my medical bills too. And the cost of missed concert dates because I can't possibly be on stage until after I recover from this rotten ordeal. I'm going to need therapy to deal with being in the company of a cold-blooded killer … you shot down over two dozen men, and it means nothing to you."

He didn't bother to respond. The woman before him didn't live in the real world … one where her pea-sized blister would be a minor inconvenience, not a disability claim. Instead, he did his best to remain conscious and vigilant, hopeful his team lived and would be coming for him soon.

"It'll be dark soon. I'm not spending the night in this rainforest. Do you even know where we are?" Raechella continued her diatribe, completely unaware that the man who saved her life numerous times today was in significant pain and struggling to remain awake.

Clay breathed a sigh of relief when she finally shut up, but it was short lived when he caught the sound of a twig snapping and rustling of foliage. He lifted his weapon and pointed in the direction of the noises. _Please don't let it be more rebels … please._

The head of a baby rhinoceros broke through the brush, and Clay chuckled with real relief … _no rebels, at least not yet._

"Why are you laughing? Shoot before it rams me." Raechella scrambled away, hiding behind the soldier she despised.

"You don't want me to kill a unicorn, do you?"

"Unicorn? Are you daft?"

"Um … no …" Clay shifted slightly as a huge, he assumed, mother rhino appeared. "Chubby unicorns won't hurt you if you stay still and be quiet … their eyesight is crap and they use their ears."

Raechella's eyes widened. "You're insane."

"No, only feverish. Shut the hell up. Let them munch on roots and grass in peace for Gods' sake." He lay his rifle on his knees and opened his med-kit, pulling out a gauze pad and ointment. "Here, tend to your blister."

Grabbing the items, her eyes never leaving the rhinos, she grumbled as she sat in the dirt. "You should do this. I'm not a doctor."

"Neither am I." Clay murmured, attempting to keep his eyelids up, but they became heavier and more challenging to lift second by second. They shut as he began shivering. _I'm in real trouble. I can't protect us in this condition, but I must try._ With the combination of blood loss, exhaustion, and fever taking their toll, Clay lost his battle with consciousness.

Raechella complained as she rubbed ointment on her toe and put the pad on before slipping her foot back in her shoe. "Here … take these. I'm done."

She dropped them in his lap but blinked when she got no response. She grabbed his injured arm, shaking him hard, and he only slumped to the ground, giving her no reaction. "Great! Just great … now you decide to take a nap. You are a worthless security guard."

RaRa huffed and bitched for a while longer as she opened his pack and pulled out the last water bottle and the three remaining candy bars. She greedily consumed everything leaving nothing for Clay. When darkness descended, she pulled her legs to her body, wrapped her arms around them and ranted at the sleeping man about how she would have him removed from the SEALs and ruin him for the rest of his pathetic life.

* * *

 _ **Nearing the River**_

The sun had set on their way to the river, and they were still about two clicks out when Blackburn came over their comms. "Havoc base to Bravo One."

"Go ahead, Havoc."

"Be advised rebel reinforcements have amassed slightly downriver of your intended location. They will have a clear line of sight to your position."

"Copy. We'll replan. Hold for details." Jason rapped on the cab of the truck, and the commander of the local military unit stuck his head out to reply. After a brief conversation, they had a new plan, and Jason conveyed the strategy to Havoc.

The truck halted, and Bravo hopped out close to where Spenser crossed the river. Then the DRC force continued to where the main group of rebels had congregated. They would engage them there and provide a distraction for Bravo to wade across and enter the rainforest, hopefully without being spotted.

As they moved through the outskirts of the village, the buildings offering cover became sparse, but the darkness provided them some concealment. Coming to a ramshackle tin house, Jason put up his hand, indicating everyone stop. A rusty-hinged door opened and a woman stepped out into the night.

Rena gasped when she saw the soldiers, but not in fear. Using decent English, she said, "You must be looking for your man and that ghastly woman."

Jason blinked. "You've seen them?"

"No, not me … my daughter. Ryta."

At her name, Ryta appeared at the door. "Mama?" Her eyes widened upon viewing the dog. "Oh, a puppy. He is cute."

The guys glanced at one another, surprise lighting their faces at the nonchalant reactions of the females and the fact they spoke English.

Brock pulled Cerb back. "Don't touch … he is working."

Cerb remained where he was, but he liked the scent of the girl and would've been receptive to a pat or scratch.

"Ryta, they are searching for the man you helped earlier. Please tell them what you told me."

The teen smiled up at them, her teeth bright white in the darkness. "I opened the door, and there they were. I spotted RaRa and became excited." A disgusted expression covered her face. "Don't like her anymore. She is rude and mean. I did what mama said and only spoke French when alone."

Rena inserted, "Speaking English can get one killed here. Safer for my daughter to stay with French."

Jason nodded. "Go on. You said helped … was one of them hurt?"

"Yes … the blond man." She ran her hand along her side. "He was cut here. Long and deep. I helped staple him together while that witch only vomited and complained. He had dried blood on his head, too but didn't do anything to clean it off. He gave me two candy bars and thanked me for my help. I hope you find him. He was really kind to me."

Trent's stomach clenched as he thought about what a swim in the filthy river might mean for the rookie.

Ray asked, "Anything else you can tell us?"

"Only he looked tired … and he squinted a lot. Being with RaRa would surely give anyone a headache. She is not a pleasant person."

They all nodded in response. Oh, they knew … the ride to the orphanage and school had made it quite clear her stage persona nowhere resembled the real person. Miss Rake was a loathsome raptor who would happily verbally tear out anyone's throat for any implied rebuff or offense.

"Thank you. Go inside … don't come out. Rebels are about, and we don't want you to be hurt." Jason gave the signal for Ray to take point, and they moved out.

* * *

 _ **Rainforest**_

A bloodcurdling scream roused Clay. More groggily than he desired, he gripped his weapon and searched for the reason. Not finding any rebels, Clay blew out a breath, winced as he rose after spying RaRa frantically wiping at her legs. "What?"

RaRa's rage-filled eyed bore into Clay's. "I hate reptiles."

"Too bad you don't like your family," Clay let slip out a thought he didn't mean to say aloud. He leaned on the tree as she sputtered and treated him to a long list of places he could shove his head … 'up his rump' made him chuckle despite his ragged condition. She was verbally cutting but didn't use curse words … strange.

Rustling in the bushes caused him to prepare to react. He hoped the incoming was rhinos again, but RaRa's scream likely alerted the rebels to their location. He shushed her, and pushed her behind him, taking cover as best he could, hoping the dark would make them difficult targets.

His luck ran out as sounds encroached from all around them. _Shit. If this isn't Bravo, we're dead._

It wasn't. Clay picked off two rebels behind him and urged RaRa with a terse, "Run. I'll hold them off as long as I can."

RaRa ran. Clay fired until he depleted his ammo. Shaking with adrenaline and chills, Clay withdrew his knife and prepared to take them on in hand-to-hand combat to give his protectee as much time to flee as possible. But Clay knew he was outnumbered and this would be his last stand … he would make it count.

He went after the closest one, slashing the man's throat before they comprehended he had gone on the offensive. As their buddy fell and blood gushed from his neck, and he made a death gurgle, they realized the soldier was deadly without a gun. Six men rushed him at once. Though Clay got in several cuts, he was disarmed in a matter of moments, taken to the ground, and trussed up like a hog, hands behind him and tied to his feet.

They began kicking his torso, the blows to his soft belly and ribs caused him to gasp for air. He overheard one man give an order to halt the attack. He wanted him alive so they could ransom him. The same voice ordered men to find the useless female.

Clay must've drifted out because when he next opened his eyes, RaRa was next to him, hands tied in front of her, feet too, gagged with a rag … small favor …, and glaring at him like she wanted to run him through with a sword.

The rebels had made camp … complete with a fire … and were gathered around said campfire swilling something from bottles, congratulating themselves on capturing the man who killed many of their buddies. He closed his eyes and listened to all the things they planned to do to him in retribution. Clay again wondered if Bravo made it out of the RPG attack alive and if they were searching for him … he didn't know.

A sharp pain took his breath away when something rammed into his ribs. His gaze landed on RaRa … she had kicked him. And the evil bitch was pulling back to do so again as she mumbled something incomprehensible through her gag. Clay attempted to roll out of the way, but she connected with his chest, on his cut side.

The pain was so intense when he heard a sickening pop. He struggled for breath. Fear washed through him when he realized a rib must've broken and punctured his lung. _I do all I can to protect her, and the royal pain-in-the-ass repays me by killing me …_

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Recuse Plans Gone Awry and Minor Retribution**

 _ **Rainforest**_

Sonny crouched in the underbrush waiting for Jason, Brock, and Ray to position themselves closer to the group of rebels. His job would be to grab the woman, and Trent to drag Clay to safety before the shooting started. Luckily, the captives were separated from those around the campfire. Apparently, the leader of the group didn't think RaRa and Clay could escape, and they were now celebrating, passing around bottles of alcohol.

Stealth was the only option to exfil this rainforest alive. It would be a snatch and grab by Trent and him while the others covered their asses as they ran like hell. If the rebels noticed their hostages missing, then Jason, Ray, and Brock would take care of things, but they all hoped to get out without gunfire alerting the larger force downriver.

"What the fuck!" Sonny murmured when he witnessed RaRa kick Clay as the kid lay hog-tied across from her. His hackles rose, and he wanted to charge out there and smack her—one of the few times when he would feel no qualms about hitting a woman.

There were only other two times … once when a female terrorist played his team false and ended up knifing Trent, and the other when out of the blue a woman at a bar racked his balls and slapped his face accusing him of accosting her, to make her boyfriend jealous.

The first woman he knocked out with one punch before she could stab Jason, and the second, well, instead of smacking her, the boyfriend didn't fare too well after the guy sucker punched him. It satisfied him when the resentful boyfriend told her to piss off and hit the road when he found out what she did.

"She's a real bitch." Trent let out a low growl when the singer kicked his wounded teammate.

"Agree." Sonny itched to act, and when RaRa kicked Clay a second time as he tried to roll away, Quinn almost gave away their position, swallowing his rage and desire to yell at the redheaded miscreant.

Trent did react when he witnessed the guppy gulping and wild fear in the kid's eyes. He raced out, keeping low, but instead of snagging him and carrying him to safety, Trent whipped out his knife and sliced the rope binding Clay's feet to his hands, then cut the binding holding his wrists, but didn't waste time releasing his ankles. He positioned Clay on his back and probing his ribs, found what he suspected … at least two fractured.

"Bravo One, got a problem … Four's deviated … out in the open." Sonny keyed his comms to inform Jason as he moved closer, hoping like hell none of the rebels spotted Trent.

"Four, Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot," Jason hissed.

Instead of answering Jason, Trent leaned in close to Spenser as he shifted off his pack. "I got you. Can't breathe?"

Astounded and grateful Trent appeared out of nowhere, Clay nodded, trying not to panic, but the pressure in his chest hurt like hell and scared the crap out of him. He couldn't get any air.

RaRa started moving, making a bunch of muffled sounds and glaring at the other soldier.

Trent keyed his comms, "Three, shut her the fuck up. Six is in respiratory distress … tension pneumothorax. Ya'll need to cover me, or he's dead." He opened his med-kit and withdrew supplies.

Sonny moved forward, clamped a hand over RaRa's mouth and harshly whispered, "You make another sound, I'll snap your neck and blame it on the rebels."

Raechella's eyes rounded as she stilled. She believed the soldier.

Trent sliced open Clay's shirt. Fortunately, the rebels had removed his armor … or possibly it was not fortunate because RaRa's kick probably wouldn't have broken the ribs. As he used povidone solution to sanitize Clay's chest, Trent whispered, "Gonna do a needle decompression to release the pressure. Sorry, no time for pain meds."

If Clay could speak, he would've said, 'do it.'

After inserting a large bore needle in the second intercostal space, at the midclavicular line, Trent visibly relaxed when a rush of air exited the needle. He removed the 14-gauge needle, leaving the catheter in place and proceeded to secure the tube with tape.

Clay drew a breath, his eyes communicating thanks.

"Line in … gotta be careful moving him. Can't sling him over my shoulder as planned," Trent communicated in a quiet tone to the others.

Sonny removed the bindings from RaRa, gave her the evil eye to remain still and silent, getting satisfaction from her reticent behavior. "The repugnant roach can walk by herself. We each take an arm and put the kid between us."

Trent nodded. Sonny sliced the rope from around Clay's ankles before assisting him to his feet. Almost home free without being discovered, fate had other plans for them as one of the rebels noticed and called out to his buddies. All hell erupted.

Sonny and Trent slung Spenser's arms over their shoulders and ran … both not giving a damn if RaRa followed them … which she did. The other members of Bravo mowed down the rebels, but they understood it would draw more men, so they needed to high-tail it out of the area.

* * *

 _ **Nearing the River**_

The team raced pell-mell through the rainforest towards the river. Pain exploded in Clay, and he blacked out shortly after Trent and Sonny hoisted him up. When Sonny's injured leg buckled once, Jason switched places with him, taking Clay's weight. Quinn's limp became more pronounced they ran, but he refused to fall behind, digging deep into his reserves to keep up.

Raechella muttered, quietly, with one eye on the burly Texan, fearing he would actually kill her. She stayed closer to the one they called Reynolds because he seemed the most rational man among these rough killers … or at least the least vocal.

Hearing Clay's ragged breathing hitch as they approached the tree line close to the riverbank, Trent slowed. "Jace, need someplace to reassess Spenser. And I gotta cover the catheter with a waterproof bandage before we cross."

Jason halted, and they lowered Clay to the ground, still concealed by trees. He moved forward checking down river, noting the local force still engaged the rebels in a fierce gunfight.

Ray sidled up next to Jason and spoke quietly, "We need a place where we can regroup and rest, or we're gonna be carrying Sonny soon. He's hurting bad, but reluctant to admit it. The trees don't provide us defensible cover … we're wide open from all directions."

"I know."

Brock joined them and suggested, "How about the house with the teen who helped Spenser?"

"Jace!"

"Yeah?" Hayes turned to Trent at his urgent call.

"The kid's in bad shape. Lost a lot of blood with the GSW and with a rib puncturing his lung he's likely bleeding internally. He's also got a raging fever." Trent cleaned a section of Clay's chest to start a blood transfusion.

"Havoc, jackpot. Say again, jackpot. Need air CASEVAC, Bravo Six is down … critical. Can cross the river for extraction, but will put us in a tight spot." Jason gazed downstream, not liking the DRC military appeared to be retreating … which might spell doom for them with two injured men and their protectee.

"What is your current location?" Eric responded.

"Riverbank, where we initially waded across."

"Let me see what I can arrange."

"We're crossing and holing up in a safer location," Jason reported.

"Copy. I'll get back to you as soon as I can … the locals are engaged in a hot and heavy situation, so I'm unsure if they are willing or able to extract." Eric paced, thoroughly frustrated. He had already requested air exfil and been denied.

"I'm not going in that again," RaRa pointed to the river, "Someone must carry me over."

Having held his tongue for longer than normal, Sonny got in her face and said, "You'll walk like us or I'll shove your face under and hold it there until you quit kicking."

"Quinn, stand down and move away. Now!" Jason barked. He didn't like the woman any more than the others, but threatening to kill her would bring a heap of trouble they didn't need, and they needed to focus on getting out with their skins intact right now.

"You. Don't. Know. What. The. Bitch. Did." Sonny ground out, enunciating every word.

"Three, nows not the time. Later." Ray stepped closer to Quinn, reasserting the command chain as Jason moved to help Trent with the kid.

Fuming, but biting back his words, for now, Sonny nodded. Part of him realized if he told them what RaRa did to the kid, they would be one shy when arriving back at Havoc because Jason would likely lose his shit and actually drown the redheaded bitch for hurting one of his team … even the rookie who hadn't completely gelled with them yet.

"Can we move him?" Jason asked Trent.

"In a moment, let me finish covering the catheter. Don't want to be introducing more shit if we drop him in that polluted water."

"Well, we aren't going to be dropping him then." Jason positioned himself to lift Spencer, a pang of guilt for leaving him in charge of the repugnant woman. If he had taken charge of her, as he should, the kid wouldn't be conversing with the Grim Reaper or knocking on death's door.

"Okay, ready."

The two lifted Clay in unison. Ray took point, followed by Sonny, RaRa, the trio, and Brock, who hooked Cerb to his chest to protect his dog from swimming through the raw sewage water. Their luck held out, and they crossed unseen, making their way to the little tin structure.

* * *

 _ **Rena's & Ryta's Home**_

Rena ushered the men in with open arms but reluctantly allowed RaRa into her humble abode. Her attention went directly to the unconscious man who could only be the one her daughter spoke so highly of and indicated they should lay him in their only bed. Her temporary residence was rather small and seemed more so when filled with seven others and one dog.

"Is there anything you need that I might be able to provide?" Rena asked.

"Thank you, but all we require you have already given us," Ray said as Trent and Jason lowered Clay to the thin mattress and he took up a sentry post at the door.

Ryta noticed one on the men stood awkwardly, favoring one leg, she hurried over with the only stool and offered it to him. "Please, sit. Rest."

Sonny grinned at the thoughtful teen. They were invading her home and putting them at risk, but she went out of her way to help. "I understand you like candy bars."

"A little." Ryta smiled but leaned closer. "What I really like are puppies."

"Brock, want to introduce Cerb to Ryta." Sonny sat, doing his best to hide the hiss of pain as Brock brought over Cerberus and allowed the hair missile to receive pats and both he and Brock grinned as Cerb rolled over for a belly rub.

RaRa stood in the corner, her arms crossed, pissed off … partly because her fan ignored her and she spoke English to the soldiers. She remained silent because when she opened her mouth on the way to this ramshackle place, the reasonable quiet guy who walked behind her whispered that if she made a sound, he would give his dog the command to rip her throat out. So, he wasn't so reasonable after all … he was as rude and ruthless as the rest of these men. _They will all rue the day they mistreated me … I'm RaRa, and I deserve to be treated with respect._

Palming a morphine injector Trent handed him after concluding their non-verbal conversation regarding Sonny's condition while he cut away their unconscious rookie's shirt, Jason stood and stretched his shoulders and back. The kid was heavier than he appeared … all muscle. "Brock, come give Trent a hand." He stepped over to the other side, where Sonny sat. "How ya holding?"

Sonny peered at Jason, hiding his pain behind a rough veneer. "Right as rain and raring to go, Boss."

"Bullshit!" Jason crouched, and in one swift motion, he jabbed the injector into Sonny's uninjured thigh and released a partial dosage of the painkiller.

"What the FUCK!" Sonny jerked as Jason rammed a needle into his leg.

"Rest. Not enough to take you down will only take the edge off. We might be here for a while … something in Blackburn's voice told me getting cooperation for a helo isn't gonna happen and I need you to be able to run if necessary."

"Roger." Sonny leaned against the wall, relishing the slight reprieve from pain as the medication began to take effect.

When Jason called him over, Reynolds left a relaxed Cerb in the care of Ryta who appeared to be in seventh heaven, yammering away at Cerb in a mix of English and French. Brock took a knee on the opposite side of Trent. "What do you want me to do?"

"I gotta remove the remaining staples from his side. The wound is infected, and it appears he's been kicked there too." Trent's gaze briefly shot daggers at RaRa. Her struggling with and hitting Clay in the river likely dislodged some and drove others deep, and her kicks did the rest of the damage. The result was a mess, and he must reclean, restaple, and redress the wound.

Returning his focus on Brock, Trent added, "Need you to hold him still if he happens to wake. Hope he remains unconscious 'cause this is gonna hurt like a bitch." Receiving a nod from Brock who also shifted, repositioning himself to restrain Clay if required, Trent put on a new pair of gloves and grabbed the staple remover.

Rousing, in extreme pain, Clay blinked his eyes open, only to slam them shut again with a whimper. The agony in his side as someone tore him apart was overwhelming and in his fevered state, Clay began mumbling and crying out as he tried to get away.

"Damn he's strong. Jace, need another set of hands," Brock called out as Clay thrashed, keeping Trent from doing what was necessary.

Jason returned and held the kid's legs as Reynolds attempted to push Spenser's shoulder's down to keep him still. The moans and cries from Clay unsettled Jason, as did the incoherent words tumbling out in a begging tone.

Brock leaned close as he held Clay's upper body down and tried to break through and offer reassurance. "You're okay, brother. Stay still. Trent will be done in a minute. Come on … relax. Quit fighting us. Sorry, we gotta do this."

Lifting his gaze to Trent, Brock barked, "Jesus man, Trent, give him some fucking morphine."

"Can't. Might depress his respirations. With one punctured lung, can't take the risk. Especially if we aren't getting air-evaced." Trent continued to pluck out the staples.

"Wonder what the heck he is saying?" Jason said as the rookie bucked again and screamed as Trent removed another staple.

Rena, who until now stayed out of their way, moved forward. "He is calling for his mother or grandmother. He is saying he won't be bad again and is begging to be allowed to go home."

"What language is he speaking?" Jason wondered what was going through the rookie's mind.

"He's alternating between Hausa, Yoruba, Swahili, and something I don't recognize. Impressive."

"Can you tell him to hold still?" Trent requested, fearing Clay would be doing more damage if the kid didn't stop rolling about.

"Yes … though I'm not sure, that will work. His fever is making him delirious. I've seen this, many times, when I worked at the mission hospital."

"Are you a nurse?"

"No, I only washed the linens. That is until the mission was overrun by rebels and destroyed. Ryta and I had to flee." Rena moved nearer and spoke to the agonized young man, but as predicted he didn't settle.

"How do you say stay still you are safe in those languages?" Brock asked, hoping if he spoke, Clay might respond.

Rena coached him, and Brock tried Swahili, Yoruba, and finally Hausa, "Kukaa bado wewe ni salama. Duro sibẹ o wa ni ailewu. Zauna har yanzu kana lafiya." The last registered a response from Clay. His body went limp as he connected with Brock's eyes. Though Brock couldn't understand Clay's words, the vulnerability in his blue eyes was hard to miss.

Brock released his grip on Clay's shoulder and stroked his hair as he would Cerb's. "Okay. You're gonna be alright. You are safe." He repeated the last part in Hausa. "Yanzu kana lafiya."

Clay leaned into the touch, whimpers eking out with each painful tug.

Trent pulled the last one and picked up the bottle of disinfectant. "This is gonna sting. Be ready for him to react."

When something cold and wet hit Clay's side, he screamed once before oblivion took him away, giving him reprieve from agony.

"Thank goodness. I was rather sick of listening to him crying and carrying on like a retarded baby. Aren't you soldiers supposed to be rough and tumble and able to withstand a little pain? My ears are ringing from his appalling whining," RaRa griped to no one in particular.

That was the last straw for Trent. In a flash, he was up and had RaRa pinned to the wall, his hands around her throat. "YOU FUCKING BITCH. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT. IF YOU HADN'T HIT HIM IN THE RIVER OR KICKED HIM IN THE REBEL'S CAMP … I WOULDN'T NEED TO REPAIR THE DAMAGE YOU CAUSED.

"HE ALMOST DIED OF A COLLAPSED LUNG AFTER YOU RAMMED YOUR FEET INTO HIS SIDE. I SHOULD KILL YOU RIGHT HERE AND DUMP YOUR REVOLTING BODY IN THE FUCKING RIVER. YOU'RE NOTHING BUT GARBAGE ANYWAY."

"Oh shit, the cats outta the bag now," Sonny said, as he rose in unison with Jason and Brock, all moving towards their normally even-tempered medic.

Shocked by Trent's outburst, Jason rushed over and seized one of his medic's hands as he demanded, "Let go. Release her."

"NO, SHE'S GONNA REAP HER REWARD!" Trent growled.

Morphine making him less Rambo-like than usual, not adding his hands to the fray, Sonny nodded. "Bitch needs to be taught a lesson."

"Not our lesson to teach," Ray said from across the room, stunned and outraged at Miss Rake by Trent's accusation as Brock gripped Trent's other arm to pry his fingers from around RaRa's neck.

Raechella's eyes rounded in fear, and her face becoming almost as red as her dyed hair. When released, she slumped to the ground, and her hands went protectively around her own neck as she gulped for air.

"What the hell was that about?" Jason pinned Trent with a disbelieving glare. Never had Sawyer gone off the deep-end like that before.

"You heard me … hell, the rebels probably did. Sorry about that, but I'm not sorry for going after her." Trent pointed to the bed. "She dares to ridicule him when she is the one responsible for his injuries and the pain I must cause him." He raked a gloved hand through his hair, leaving traces of Clay's blood in it.

Nodding in agreement, Sonny sat on the stool again. "Didn't want to say anything yet. Thought you would rip her to pieces, Jace, if you knew what she did. Don't like her … hate her, but, well, shit, she's our responsibility until we can dump her back on the plane. She ain't worth ruining any of our careers."

Moving back to Spenser, Brock noted Cerb had taken up a guard position next to their rookie. The revelation rattled him, and he said, "Half tempted to sick Cerb on her … rip her throat out … but I don't want him chewing on something so rancid."

Dropping to his knees, Brock stroked the kid's hair again. Though Spenser was not much younger than him, at the moment he looked just like a kid … vulnerable … and something akin to the feeling he had for Cerb formed and grew in Brock. Soft and gentle, he whispered, "Me and Cerb will always protect you, little brother."

Cerb nudged Brock, seeking permission to come closer.

"Good boy, Cerb. Protect."

Cerberus rested his paw on Clay's hand. _I'd bite her now for what she did to you, but I might end up with rabies or something worse. Though if she comes near you, she is fair game and I'm willing to risk tearing her apart._ _You're now part of my pack ... you're my boy ... and no one hurts my boys._

Frustrated by the events, Jason realized this mission had been a royal clusterfuck since they had been assigned. Someone would need to answer for putting his men at risk and in charge of this reprehensible woman. He keyed his comms as Trent returned to Spenser. "Bravo One to Havoc. Status on CASEVAC?"

"Still working the issue. Hang tight," Eric reported.

"Roger." Jason hated not being able to move out and get both Clay and Sonny back to the plane. As much as RaRa's actions pissed him off, his priority was working the problem of getting them back. Later he could deal with the bitch.

"So we're probably gonna be hoofing it out unless we can find transport of some sort around here," Ray said.

"Appears that way to me too. Need a litter to carry the kid." Jason replied.

A screech from RaRa made their heads swivel to find out what occurred. All the men stared, somewhat shocked as they all snickered at RaRa's current situation.

Enraged, Ryta stood next to RaRa, an empty bucket in her hand, as she reamed the woman. "I can't believe I ever liked and respected someone as remorseless and repulsive as you. You are rotten to the core without a single redeemable quality. You're so awful I can't even call you a reptile because they are nicer than you."

Raechella sputtered as she stood, brushing off rotted food her former fan dumped on her. The reeking liquid, from what she couldn't gather, dripped from her hair and stained her ruined blouse. She backhanded the girl … the resounding smack drawing immediate action from Cerberus who ran and leapt, knocking RaRa to the ground and stood on her chest with his teeth bared and emitting a low throated growl.

"CALL THE DOG OFF!" Raechella screamed, terrified.

A red print formed on Ryta's check as she rushed to her mother's arms. Tears sprouted as she said, "I'm sorry, I just couldn't let her get away without some sort of retribution for hurting him."

"Shush. Not exactly how I would wish you to respond, but I understand. And she had no right to hit you." Rena dried her daughter's tears.

Jason sighed. "We can't get back soon enough." He signaled Reynolds to call off Cerb and leaned against the wall beside Ray. "This is one hell of a mission."

"I hear ya, brother." Ray checked outside, relieved to find no rebels coming their way. "So, any ideas on how we might get the hell out of here before someone actually kills RaRa?"

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Rena's Request and Jason's Rage**

 _ **Rena's & Ryta's Home**_

After debating in her own mind ever since first encountering the soldiers and for the last hour as the men took care of their injured teammate, Rena finally got up enough nerve to approach their leader and make her request. "Excuse me."

Jason turned his attention to Rena from Ray with which he had been discussing exfil options since Blackburn had yet to secure a helo for them. "Yes."

"I might be able to help … and I will, without reservation, but perhaps you can help me too." Rena wrung her hands, waiting, and her eyes darted to Ryta … she would do anything for that girl … even stay here.

"How can you help and what do you need in return?" Jason shifted the weight of his rifle, his mind open to any suggestions. As an operator, they prided themselves on working the problem and often finding unorthodox answers to achieve their objectives.

"I know where to obtain a van. And I'd like you to take Ryta and me with you back to America."

Jason blinked. Unorthodox was one thing, taking locals with them quite another. A small part wanted to agree … lie … and leave them after getting the vehicle … but a significant piece, his conscience, wouldn't allow him to do so. "We can't take you to the U.S."

Rena glanced down, took a deep breath, turned her eyes to Ryta, tears welled as she confessed, "My name is Rena Radcliff. I am an American citizen. I can't prove it, my documents were lost years ago, but I am. I came here twelve years ago as part of a missionary group. I wanted to help others. I worked at a mission as a teacher, and that is where I met Ryta.

"She was only three. Ryta came to our mission with her mother, Sephora, who did the laundry. Sephora and I became friends. When the rebels attacked ten years ago, only Ryta and I survived … we barely got out before they burned the building to the ground. With all my documentation gone and no money or way to contact my family in the States, I did what I could to make a living. Ryta was only five and orphaned, so I took care of her, and she became my daughter.

"We are only here now because the rebels ransacked the village we lived in last year. I want more for Ryta … a better life. If I could only return home, I can make that happen. The problems I have though are I can't prove who I am, and there is no documentation for Ryta. And even if someone believed me, I won't leave my girl. She comes, or I stay. I will not abandon her."

Rena wiped at the tears, but straightened her spine, and held her head high. "I will help you because it is the right thing to do. I hope in return you can help us."

"Jace, we have no proof," Ray said, though his gut churned. They could get into a whole lot of shit if command learned they snuck someone into the country … even if Blackburn allowed it … which he probably wouldn't.

"I say we take them. Cake eaters and red-tape be damned," Sonny voiced his opinion.

Trent twisted to peer at Jason after starting another bag of saline. "The kid might die if we don't go soon … his abdomen is becoming more rigid. With the internal bleeding, we can't wait for Blackburn to arrange with the local dimwits."

Brock remained quiet but smiled at Ryta. He would win a wager if he placed one on Jason agreeing. His attention and Trent's returned to Clay as he moaned and stirred. It appeared in the past hour his fever diminished some after Trent gave Clay a fever reducer and started antibiotics in his IV.

Clay's world came into focus slowly as he opened his eyes. The ungodly pain he felt when RaRa kicked him still present, but somewhat muted, particularly if he remained absolutely still. His processing speed impaired, it took him a moment to register he was no longer in the rainforest trussed up like a hog. Memory of Trent appearing out of nowhere returned as he set eyes on the team medic.

Scanning, he noted Reynolds next to him and Cerb. Across the room was Hayes, Perry, Quinn, and a woman he didn't recall. He groaned again as his eyes landed on RaRa. He mumbled, "Fuck, she survived."

Trent and Brock both chuckled at Clay's first words noting where he was staring. Retaking the kid's pulse, Trent said, "Welcome back to the land of the living."

"Where am I?" Clay asked and grimaced as he lifted his arm to rub his aching head. He had to drop his hand mid-way, not having enough energy to finish the trip and the pain spiking as he realized that was the arm with a bullet hole.

Ryta moved to the bed, smiled and waved. "Hi."

Confused, Clay answered in French, "Pourquoi es-tu ici?"

"I'm here because this is my home. Oh, and I speak English too. But I'm not allowed to when Mama isn't home." Ryta reached out to pet Cerb again.

Clay's eyes shifted to Trent, then to Brock. "Am I hallucinating? Wait, don't answer, cause if I am you might say no, and ah hell, my head hurts." He closed his eyes, and a moan escaped again as his side and arm throbbed.

"I know you hurt. I can't give you much morphine due to your punctured lung, but I'm gonna give you a little now and a bit more before we move out. You're gonna just lie here and not move until then. Understand?" Trent injected a partial dose.

The prick of the needle was all Clay needed to recognize he was not hallucinating. Though it was hard to think through the pounding headache and fuzziness, Clay realized he had been the weak link. He wondered what this would do to his position on Bravo. He was the rookie, and perhaps Hayes would cut him from the team.

He had not gone in the direction Sonny directed him to when the RPGs were fired. Undoubtedly, it wouldn't matter to the Master Chief if he told them RaRa ran and he followed her … that was his job … to protect her and so he did. But they might see him as incapable because he couldn't corral one woman wearing high heels.

"I asked if you understand you aren't to move," Trent said more harshly than he meant, concerned by the pain lines and lack of response after Clay initially appeared aware.

A breathless, "Yes," came from Clay after a tightness in his chest formed. One that didn't have to do with physical trauma. He had been excited Bravo chose him, but now they might change their minds … especially if he was gonna be out for weeks to recover. Hayes would likely pick someone else to be Six, and he would be relegated to a support position.

Brock refrained from carding his fingers through Spenser's hair now that the kid was awake … he might find it weird and react by pulling away, and Trent needed Clay to remain still to lessen the internal bleeding. Instead, he patted his shoulder. "Good, boy." He rose when Jason motioned him over to him and Ray.

 _Boy? I'm not a boy! I might be the last to join the team, but I'm no boy. And damn, I'm only a couple of years younger than Reynolds. Shit! This mission might be my last._ Additional thoughts stalled as the morphine took full effect, pulling him down into a nebulous world where he floated in and out of his past.

Images of his first time in Africa, when he was sent to live with his grandparents in Nigeria, filled his mind. The nights he spent crying for his mother, begging his grandmother to send him home, believing he had been bad and sent away from his father as a punishment. A terrifying time when the only people he could talk to were his grandparent because he didn't understand the language. A lonely time because they were always busy, and there were no kids his age to play with.

When Clay began whimpering and mumbling again, Trent did what Brock had done, running fingers through the sweaty mop of blond curls. "Hey, you're safe. Just relax, Kid." A hand gripping his shirt surprised Trent. He looked down, and Clay latched on. Trent rested his other hand on Clay's hoping to provide reassurance.

The cocky bravado which typically exuded from this young SEAL was replaced with what appeared to be repressed fears. He now viewed a hurting and scared kid. Something changed within Trent. Sure, he cared about all his teammates and called them brother, but he never experienced this deep sense of concern and connection for any of his previous brothers so quickly.

Jason strode over to the medic. "Rena indicates the van is about a quarter of a mile. Will he be okay for that distance if we carry him, or do we need to bring the vehicle here?"

As much as Trent wanted to restrict Clay's movement, he understood the risk of returning here. "Should be doable. I'll give him a bit more morphine, so he doesn't cry out and give us away."

Jason nodded. "Okay. Get him prepped. We leave as soon as you are ready."

"We taking Rena and Ryta?"

"Yes. Mandy owes us one. She can figure out all the red-tape. Maybe classify Rena as an asset or something." Jason grinned at the teen. "Pack only what you can carry."

* * *

 _ **In Village**_

Bravo made it only one street over before the lights of a truck flashed at them from a short distance away in conjunction with Rob's voice, the leader of the support team, coming over comms, "Heard you boys needed a ride. We left the party early to pick you up."

Relieved chuckles sounded from all of Bravo except Clay who succumbed to darkness when Jason, Trent, Sonny, and Brock each lifted a corner of the blanket which would suffice as a litter. After a brief check-in with Havoc, where Blackburn sighed, glad for Rob's quick thinking and decision to leave the DRC force to deal with the rebel faction down the river, they loaded up. There was only room for Clay, Sonny, RaRa, Rena, and Ryta in the back, once three of the support hopped out. The rest jogged beside the vehicle as they proceeded to procure the van.

Once they had both vehicles, they moved RaRa to the old van and Trent took her place so he could tend to Clay. Everyone was relieved when the singer remained quiet throughout the remainder of the journey to the airport.

* * *

 _ **Airport Tarmac – Bravo's Plane**_

Davis watched as the men piled out of their acquired transportation, wishing she could've worked some magic to get a helo. Her eyes followed Sonny as he limped towards the ramp. Their friendship ranked at the top of her list and was the longest one she had on record. His weird and sometimes raunchy sense of humor drew her to him, as did his drive and determination. Somehow, they clicked, though they were quite different.

Her eyes shifted as the other four boys lifted Spenser onto the gurney she positioned ready for their arrival. Lisa still was not sure how she felt about the new guy. Their first encounter when he was a strap, sometimes played in her mind. His cockiness when he wanted to hang a hammock, set her teeth on edge that night, and she had to shut him down.

Since he joined, well, things improved. His kid-in-a-candy-shop expression when she told him to give her a list of what gear he wanted still made her smile. As she viewed Brock lightly stroke the blond mop before striding towards the ramp with Cerb trotting beside him, Lisa reckoned perhaps behind all Clay's swagger and arrogance lay insecurity … much like her. _Fake it until you make it_ had been her mantra for years to cover her self-doubt.

Davis caught sight of RaRa and clenched her fists, tension causing her to become rigid. She wanted to lash out and slap the woman for what she did to Spenser in the river. She rewatched the ISR feed and RaRa hitting him after he dove in to save the overrated celeb didn't sit right with Lisa.

Before she did something she would regret, Lisa pivoted and went to make sure everything Trent might need would be handy. Though the team's doctor rarely came with them, Dr. Irving ensured they traveled with a fully stocked emergency medical kit in case proper treatment facilities were unavailable, which happened on occasion. And today they would need them because the nearest hospital was at least a five-hour flight.

After helping lay Spenser on the gurney, Hayes made a beeline for Blackburn. Hot under the collar, all the shit they went through and what happened to the rookie all coming to a head, Jason blew his top. "THIS CAN NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. WE ARE NOT BODYGUARDS FOR HIRE BY SOME RICH REDHEADED CELEB WHO MANIPULATED SOME CAKE EATER TO ASSIGN US."

"Ratchet it down a notch, Jason. Not the time nor place for debrief."

Jason pointed at the gurney, ignoring Blackburn's light reprimand. "THAT KID … MY ROOKIE … HE ALMOST DIED BECAUSE OF RAKE. HE WAS HOG-TIED BY THE REBELS, BUT BREATHING FINE UNTIL THAT BITCH KICKED HIM … TWICE. TRENT HAD TO RISK HIS LIFE TO SAVE SPENSER'S, BREAKING COVER BEFORE WE WERE IN PLACE.

"THE KID GOES ABOVE AND BEYOND TO SAVE HER SORRY ASS, AND THAT IS HOW SHE REPAYS HIM. KICKING HIM SO HARD HIS RIB PUNCTURES HIS LUNG. YOU SHOULD'VE SEEN THE MESS SHE MADE OF HIS LACERATION. SHE RIPPED OUT SOME STAPLES WHEN SHE HIT HIM IN THE RIVER, AND HER KICKS DROVE OTHERS IN SO DEEP THEY TORE THE KID'S SKIN APART."

Eric groaned. The flight home with a rip-roaring, raging-mad Hayes confined in a metal tube, albeit large one, would be no one's idea of fun. To control the situation, Eric became stern and commanding, something he had to on rare occasions when Jason came dangerously close to stepping over the line. "Master Chief Hayes, get your men situated so we can take off. We'll deal with the other once we're in the air."

As the gurney passed, Jason clenched his fists, swallowed his next angry rebuke, refocused on his team, and reined in his rage enough to lower his voice, but his tone left no question he remained furious, "Copy. But we aren't done here. She needs to be held accountable for almost killing one of my men." Jason stomped up the ramp.

Eric blew out a breath, and his attention was drawn to the high-pitched whiney voice of Miss Rake who now clung to her rep Richard, telling her side of the story to a sympathetic ear. Likely the only one she would encounter until they returned home. He noted the support team gave her a wide berth and Bravo completely ignored her cries for help walking.

If the situation weren't so fucked up, he would've laughed outright when she crumpled to the ground, sobbing, and Richard, who probably weighed all of a hundred and thirty pounds with no muscle, struggled to pick her up. Instead, he moved forward … the joys of being a mid-level officer meant he must deal with her to shield his men. And he would, without reservation, because for all of Jason's reputation as a hot-head, he didn't rage without cause.

However, with his focus on RaRa and her representative, and hoping he could rein in the boys of Bravo so they didn't throw RaRa out of the plane at 40,000 feet, Eric failed to notice Ray escorting two local females onto the plane.

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Reamed, Restricted, and Regrets**

 _ **Bravo's Plane – Inflight**_

Clay blinked open his eyes, disoriented for a moment by the sounds filling his ears … no longer eerily quiet. The familiar drone of the C17's engines told him where he was … on the plane, and they were in the air.

"Hey, how's the pain?" Trent asked noting Clay's eyes opened.

It sucked, he friggin hurt, but replied, "Fine."

"Okay. If it becomes too much, you let me know. Can't give you much, but this is a long flight so I can give you little doses to help take the edge off if needed."

Clay nodded, which he wished he hadn't as the throbbing in his head increased. Thirsty, he licked his dry lips. "Water?"

"Sorry, no. Nothing by mouth. This will have to do for now." Trent took a damp rag and wiped Clay's lips. "When's the last time you ate something?"

"Not sure … before we left."

Sonny hobbled over upon hearing Spenser. His face set in a stern line. His emotions, yeah, he had them, running every direction. His main thoughts centered on how this whole damned result could've been prevented. The rookie should've listened to him.

Clay spotted Sonny and read his expression. _Yeah, he's gonna ream me … I'm gonna lose my position on Bravo if Quinn has anything to say about it._

Chewing on his toothpick, Sonny had a moment of indecision but plowed forward as rage from an unknown source surged in him. "You and me are gonna have us a talk, Rugrat. What we have here is not a failure to communicate. It is a failure to listen. I tell you to go right you damn-well go right!"

Clay's stomach clenched, and he recognized he needed to rein in his cockiness, but Quinn's rebuke got his hackles up, so he retorted, "Just doing my fucking job. When the—"

Sonny interrupted, waving up and down Spenser's body. "This shit wouldn't have happened had you listened to your more experienced betters, Rookie."

"Sonny! Now's not the time." Trent tried to intercede as he threw a glance at Jason and Ray, who were far enough away not to hear the exchange.

"I kept the bitch alive, didn't I. Though perhaps I should've let the rebels take her," Clay ground out as he twisted, trying to sit up. He refused to take Quinn's shit lying down. Pain lanced through his chest. He gasped. His eyes rounded when not enough air filled his lungs. Clay sucked in another breath … and began to panic as pressure began to build. The expression on Quinn's face became unreadable to Clay as Trent laid him flat and told him to relax and breath as he put an oxygen mask over his face. He would've complied if he could.

Eric's head throbbed after listening non-stop to RaRa for the past thirty minutes. The thought of lowering the ramp and tossing her out without a chute didn't seem quite as objectionable at the moment. For a woman who made a living as a Christian singer, she failed miserably in showing any sort of compassion for anyone other than herself.

Having had enough, for now, Blackburn rose, intending to check on Spenser's condition. The self-absorbed, pea-brain of a woman injured the kid while he tried his damnedest to protect her. Eric took two steps away before the wretched voice capable of stripping paint off the hull of a ship started again.

"Don't you dare walk away while I'm speaking. Yours and your team's rudeness will reap repercussions. Hopefully, as much as will befall that jackanape who was supposed protect me. He is going to rue the day he said he was going to rape me and leave me in the rainforest for the rebels to do the same.

"I tried to get away from him in the river, but he grabbed my arm and overpowered me. I had to run when he shoved me in front of him when the rhinos charged us. He ruined my clothes … ripped my shirt when he tried to paw my breasts. I will see him put in prison."

Eric wanted to tune her out. Everything spilling out of her mouth was ridiculous. Commotion at the rear of the plane drew his attention, and he started running as Trent shouted, "CLAY'S IN RESPIRATORY FAILURE. WE NEED TO DO RAPID SEQUENCE INTUBATION."

Trent pushed Sonny out of the way as he reached for the intubation kit to prep his supplies as he directed, "Brock, crank the O2 to a hundred percent. Ray position his head and neck. Jace, push 1.5 mg/kg lidocaine, 0.1 mg/kg midazolam, and 1 mg/kg rocuronium through his IV."

As a team, the four men worked efficiently to prepare Clay for intubation as Eric, Lisa, and Mandy looked on and the only noises to be heard where the aircraft's engines and Trent's instructions … a pall draping over all of Bravo and most of the support team.

Sonny limped to the webbed seat across the way … guilt surging in him. _What the fuck did I just do?_

* * *

 _ **Italy Airport – Bravo's Plane**_

Eric stood toe-to-toe with Jason as Sonny limped and Clay was rolled down the ramp, surrounded by medics who would transport them to the Naval Hospital. The issue … not allowing any of the other Bravo members to go with them in the ambulances, not even Trent, is what pissed Jason off the most. "They're in good hands. Qualified Navy doctors and nurses to tend them."

Jason raked his fingers through his hair. He made his case, a weak one, but the only one he had. "He's a rookie. Shouldn't be left to wake up alone after what Sonny said to him. And fuck … Sonny shouldn't be alone either. He's blaming himself."

Eric pointed to Rena and Ryta. "They are the reason you are staying put. Sneaking them aboard is gonna cause enough shit. You are ordered to remain on the plane."

Tugging on Jason's sleeve, Ray said, "Jace, let it go. Blackburn is right. We're in enough trouble as it is … don't cause more."

Not quite ready to give in, Jason said, "For the record, we didn't sneak them on. You just didn't see them boarding. And Rena is an American who needed rescuing. That's what we do." Jason's eyes tracked RaRa's path as a medic pushed her out on a gurney … at her insistence, she couldn't possibly walk even with assistance to the ambulance.

She made such a big deal of an insignificant blister it made him want to laugh in her face, but he restrained himself. Her accusations regarding Clay set him on fire, and if Jason got within striking distance, he would've decked the rabid bitch. Though he possessed no worries Spenser wouldn't be vindicated, mostly because Rake kept revising her tale of woe each time she related it, and her details didn't reconcile with the evidence obtained from ISR footage or the report provided by Ryta.

"Don't split hairs with me, Jason. I'm too tired for this shit. You, Ray, Trent, and Brock are all to remain here until I sort some things out. Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

A weary sigh escaped, and Eric softened a bit. "I'll work as fast as I can. You're right about Sonny not being left on his own for too long, but Clay isn't likely to be awake for some time."

Ray suggested, "Send Davis to stay with Sonny. She'll keep him in line and might help him deal with … well, what he thinks he did."

Eric nodded. "Reasonable solution." Taking a glance at Rena and Ryta again, he admitted, "Personally and off the record, I'm glad you brought them. And as you requested, Mandy is researching ways to facilitate their entry and validate Rena's claim to citizenship."

His gaze reverting to Hayes, he added, "Rack out … you're all exhausted." He strode down the ramp, certain Bravo would stay put as ordered, but doubtful any of them would sleep.

* * *

 _ **Naval Hospital Naples, Italy**_

Lisa entered Sonny's room to find him glowering at the wall. This wasn't going to be easy. The big lug had a heart of gold, and he would be beating himself up regarding the chain of events. She made it fully into the room and set the bag of food on the rolling table before Sonny acknowledged her presence.

"Hey, Cowboy. Thought you might be hungry, so I brought you something." The soulful blue eyes which pierced her, caused her to inhale sharply.

"How's the rookie?" Sonny ignored the food.

"Don't have an update other than he is in surgery."

"My fault … couldn't keep my mouth shut."

"Whoa! Hold on there, big guy. What happened to him isn't your responsibility. I lay the blame squarely on RaRa."

"He was breathin' fine until I laid into him and Spenser got all cocky back." Rage from a still unidentified source ignited in the pit of his stomach again. "If the rookie only listened and didn't get all—"

"STOP."

Lisa's yell halted Sonny for only a moment. "What? The little shit is too arrogant for his good. He ran the wrong way."

Struggling not to get in Sonny's face and ream him for his stupidity, Lisa crossed her arms and glared at him. Her silence made him stop, and when he did, she said, "Are you quite finished being a ridiculous and righteous ass? If not, please go on and dig your hole deeper."

When he remained quiet, Lisa blew out a breath. "Here is a hard fact you aren't aware of which you need to think through before you talk to Spenser. He did his job."

"No, he went—"

"Shut it … I swear you are acting like RaRa."

"Now that there's a low blow, Davis."

"If that's what it takes to shut you up, then it is what it is. Are you ready to listen … and I mean really listen before you irrevocably fracture this team?"

Sonny reached for the bag. He didn't understand his anger towards the rookie. Removing the take-out container from the paper sack, he spotted ravioli and used it as a distraction. "I'm listening." He popped the top off and forked a huge piece into his mouth to prevent himself from interrupting Lisa.

Noting Sonny's change in demeanor … the pasta working as she hoped it might … Lisa relaxed a little. "As I said, Clay did as ordered. His task was to protect that revolting woman. I had a bird's eye view via the ISR. Spenser did not run the wrong direction. He didn't ignore your instruction either. RaRa ran to the left after slapping him so hard it knocked off his sunglasses. Spenser reacted rapidly and raced after her. He chose the only refuge available to him and shoved her towards the building."

Sonny choked on his bite of ravioli as he swallowed. Davis moved forward and slapped his back … maybe harder than necessary … as he coughed. Sonny leaned back after setting down the food dish. A soft, "Well, shit," came out as more guilt landed on his already heavy burden.

After dragging over a chair, Lisa pulled her salad from the bag. She gave Sonny a few minutes to think through her words as she hunted and pecked for the olives she enjoyed. When enough time passed, she ventured. "There's something else I want you to think about. It is only my suspicion, but." Lisa paused, wondering if she should share her possible insight into Clay.

"But what?" Although no longer hungry, Lisa's revelation wiping it out completely, he reached for the ravioli again.

"Mind you, this is only something that popped into my head, but part of me believes Clay's cockiness is a shield to hide insecurity."

Sonny snorted. "Yeah, right. Think you're reaching there, Little Missy. He's cocky because he believes he's second generation SEAL royalty."

Lisa arched one brow. "And you don't think his father writing that book and being PNG'd caused Clay any problems … made things more difficult for him? I mean, everyone would respect him, right? Especially being the son of the Great Ass Spenser."

Sonny snickered. "Ass … that's good, Davis."

"Well, do you?" Lisa eyed him, demanding an answer.

Rolling her remarks around in his brain, Sonny fought to reject the truth in them. "Son like father … a royal pain in the ass."

"Really? You know Spenser so well to make that determination? What, if anything, has he done since he joined Bravo to give you that opinion? From my point of view, he's done everything you all have asked of him. Hell, he's going broke from all the beer he's buying you all for all his firsts. Which if you would realize … aren't firsts for him.

"He led six guys in Team Three, and now he is being treated like he doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. But for the most part, he accepts his rookie status in Bravo … well, as gracefully as any of you swaggering pipe hitters can. And what he brings to this team is as important and valuable as any one of you so-called 'experienced betters' have to offer. And to boot, Clay possesses language skills most of you can only dream about having … fluent in six languages and a smattering of a dozen or so more."

Again, Davis' reflective words hit their mark, but Sonny wasn't about to let her know because he didn't understand why he was so angry with Spenser. So he changed the topic. "Where are the rest of the guys? Thought they would be here by now."

"Blackburn restricted them to the plane."

"Why?"

"Two words … Rena and Ryta." Lisa lost her appetite and set her salad down.

"That's three words."

"Technically, yes. But the lieutenant commander is off doing damage control with them hitching a ride in our C17 and the whole RaRa business. Ellis is trying to gather intel to help with both issues. Jason and the guys need to keep a low profile while they attempt to resolve things, so none of you are rewarded for your efforts with ruined careers."

Reamed out, rudderless and full of regret, Sonny pressed his head into his pillow. "So, the rookie is gonna wake up alone after I raked him over the coals for something that isn't his fault. Not right … not right. Shit."

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Retching, Rejoicing, and Rage**

 _ **Italy Airport – Bravo's Plane**_

The guys restricted to the plane realized, for the sake of the women now housed with them, they needed showers. Though with none available on the aircraft, each man took the box of wet wipes eagerly proffered by Rob. After Rob and the other members of support escorted the ladies down the ramp to preserve their sensibilities, they stripped off their reeking clothing and tossed them in plastic bags.

They did their best to clean up, given their limited facilities, then satisfied with their accomplishments they donned their civvies, and the others reboarded. After consuming several bottles of water and MREs consisting of mainly finger foods, they hung their hammocks and tried to sleep. None were successful in achieving more than intermittent rest.

After a fitful night, they rose and paced the plane like caged lions as they waited for updates on Spenser and Quinn. Six hours later, Davis called to give them the low-down on Sonny, who would be held in the hospital because a fever developed. Crossing the river of raw sewage and other garbage allowed an infection to set in via the smaller cuts Sonny got on his arms when the rubble crashed down on him in the initial attack.

She also communicated Clay came through surgery to repair his lung and ribs fine. And although he was still in ICU he was no longer intubated. Other than the positive yet minimal update, she couldn't provide them a projection on his recovery, leaving them to aimlessly roam around the cargo bay's interior until evening.

Nerves rattled, wondering how Eric and Mandy were progressing with the Rena-Ryta issue and RaRa's allegations against Clay, they settled down to eat the decent meal Davis arranged to be delivered. They all enjoyed the creamy root vegetable risotto and roasted chicken. Exhausted and with nothing to do except read or play cards, the guys hit the rack again. But hours later, all remained awake and restless.

The agonizing and unsettling sensation hit Trent first. With his stomach painfully cramping, he rolled out of his hammock, tripping, and then regaining his feet as he rushed to the only lavatory at the front. He barely made it there before he began heaving.

Retching out his innards was bad enough, but then diarrhea, and chills associated with a fever set in also. Sitting on the toilet with a bucket in his lap, pouring fluids out of both ends was not Trent's definition of a good time.

Ray and Brock raced to for the two urinals in the aft together suffering the same initial symptoms as Trent … retching up all they ate into the small urinals. And ten minutes later Jason ran down the ramp and outside to hurl on the tarmac.

Embarrassed yet grateful when Rob had his guys bring them buckets when diarrhea hit, Brock and Ray reversed, dropping their drawers, their backsides now in contact with the cool steel and their heads poised over the buckets. Jason was helped back up the plane's ramp and outfitted with two buckets for his needs.

Rob escorted Rena and Ryta outside and had three of his men string a blanket to provide the ill men some privacy in their hell. Understanding the seriousness of the problem, Rob rang Davis, who called Blackburn, who contacted the hospital, which sent four ambulances and a fully equipped medical team to assess and quarantine the non-symptomatic personnel on the aircraft.

Within thirty minutes, four were on their way to the naval hospital in acute distress, while a tent had been erected next to the C17, and those remaining, including Rena and Ryta, were undergoing a decontamination process.

Davis' next call was to arrange for a cleaning crew to sanitize the interior and all of Bravo's gear. Though she didn't have official confirmation, she believed they picked up something nasty from wading through the river. She wondered if Sonny and Clay would be affected and wholly wished RaRa was suffering too.

* * *

 _ **Naval Hospital Naples, Italy**_

Eric strode down the hall at a rapid pace to the emergency room. Davis' call interrupted a discussion with Mandy, they were making progress, and he hoped to have a resolution soon, but his attention reverted to the immediate needs of his men. He halted at the nurses' station and said, "I'm Lt. Commander Blackburn. My men were brought in. I'd like an update on their condition."

"Yes, sir. I'll page the doctor, and he'll be out when he can."

"Thank you." Eric pivoted, eyed the bank of chairs, but decided to stand against one of the walls, too keyed up to relax. This escort mission had gone to hell in a handbasket the moment Richard Wimbly tweeted RaRa's destination and route.

Eric wanted to find a way to hold the man responsible for this fiasco accountable … prison would be acceptable for Richard, and RaRa as well. Though, if he had his druthers, drowning both in a river of shit would be more satisfying. Or perhaps a little less violent and more legal option, revealing to all her adoring fans what a hypocrite and revolting person she really is.

After a twenty-minute wait, a doctor emerged, and Eric stopped his reflections on all the ways he wanted to seek retribution against Miss Rake. "Doctor, how are my boys?"

"Quite ill. Due to their continual vomiting and the profuseness of diarrhea, I will be admitting them to the hospital for intravenous fluid replacement. After taking a history and doing an examination, my diagnosis is dysentery.

"I've sent samples to the lab for testing, to determine if the cause is amoebic or bacillary. However, given the severe and rapid onset, I started treatment before confirmation by laboratory analysis, which is standard procedure.

"They are being given ciprofloxacin, an antibiotic, to combat bacterial infection. I'm also administering metronidazole, an antimicrobial drug if it turns out to be caused by the parasitic amoeba, _Entamoeba histolytica_."

Eric nodded. "And how long will they be here?"

"Depends on how well they respond to treatment. But most cases of amoebic and bacterial dysentery subside within ten days, and most individuals achieve a full recovery within two to four weeks. We will be moving them to rooms within the hour. Any other questions?"

"Yes, Petty Officers Quinn and Spenser … are they experiencing the same issues?"

"I'm not their treating physician, but let me check." The doctor turned and went to the desk, tapped the keyboard, took a moment to read, and then returned to the Lt. Commander. "Unfortunately, yes, and also the woman who arrived at the same time, a Miss Rake."

"Couldn't happen to a more wonderful person," Eric mumbled, glad RaRa ended up sick as well.

"What did you say, sir?"

"Nothing. Thank you for the information. Where can I find Spenser's and Quinn's doctors for a full update."

"On the second floor. Quinn is in room two-o-seven and Spenser was recently moved from ICU to room two ten."

"Thanks again." Eric pivoted and needing a bit of caffeine headed for the commissary for a cup of coffee since the boys wouldn't be in rooms for a little while. He would take a short break before going to visit them all.

* * *

 _ **Naval Base, Italy – Conference Room**_

Mandy stood behind Lester and stared at the screen as a smile formed. "Well done. Your research is top-notch as always."

"Thanks." Lester hit print for Mandy. "Are you going to deliver the news to Hayes personally?"

Biting her lower lip, Mandy shook her head. "Can't. He and the other guys are now all in the hospital. Turns out they really needed soap and water to destroy the amoeba they picked up in the river. The wipes they used to clean up didn't kill it."

"Damn. This has been a lot of extra work, but I feel pretty good about what we are doing, and I'm sure once they are feeling better, they will too."

"Yeah." Mandy took a moment to determine her next step. "Keep digging on the other issue."

"Will do." As Mandy turned, Lester asked, "Where are you going?"

Her smile grew, and she waved the printout at him, a lightness in her step as she exited the room.

Lester grinned and set to work again. Somedays he just loved his job and today was one of them.

* * *

 _ **Italy Airport – Tent Near Bravo's Plane**_

Rena sat on the soft gurney beside Ryta as her daughter read a book one of the men offered her. She chuckled when she found out it was a romance novel … full of batting eyelashes and damsels in distress … not something she expected a rough and tumble SEAL would read. But then Rob explained he had three daughters and wanted to stay attuned to things in their lives. So he read the books they did … with much eye-rolling and a desire to ensure none of his girls were as helpless as many of the heroines in the novels.

Sipping a sugary-sweet soda, the first she enjoyed in over a decade, Rena gave thanks they met the SEALs. She also sent up prayers they would all survive this ordeal and prosper in the future, especially one very handsome and young blond who had been dealt a near-impossible task of reining in the horrible RaRa.

Mandy entered the tent set up for the women while the plane was decontaminated, and headed straight to Rena. "I have news for you."

Rena's stomach rolled with anxiety, and her hand clasped Ryta's. "Okay?"

Turning the sheet of paper towards Rena, Mandy watched for the reaction and was presented with a kaleidoscope, ranging from surprise, to wonder, to elation, to tears filling her eyes.

"Really?"

"Yes." Mandy beamed as Rena let out a little sob and pulled her daughter to her.

Ryta who had been absorbed in her book and not looked at the paper peered over at Miss Ellis with questioning eyes. "What?"

Mandy shared, "Rena's parents have been searching for her ever since they received word rebels destroyed the mission. They never gave up hope she escaped and survived. Every year, when a new set of missionary recruits traveled to DRC they took stacks of fliers with Rena's photo and would ask residents they came in contact with if they had seen her."

"They searched for my mom?"

"Yes."

Rena pulled herself together, wiping her eyes and sniffling. "What about Ryta? I won't go home without her."

"You won't have to. Your citizenship has been confirmed, and one of my associates is starting the process for legal adoption, with immediate refugee status for Ryta until the adoption can be finalized."

Mandy watched as the two hugged one another and dissolved into happy tears. She waited until they recomposed themselves before divulging the pièce de résistance. "Arrangements will be made to fly your family from Rio Rancho to Little Creek in accordance with our arrival." She held out a satellite phone. "I have your parent's number if you would like to call?"

Rena's hand shook as she reached for the device. "I'm not sure what to say after so long."

Mandy's smile blossomed when Ryta suggested, "Hi, Mom and Dad. I'm coming home and bringing your granddaughter with me."

Tears ran down Rena's cheeks as she did just that.

* * *

 _ **Naval Hospital Naples, Italy – Stairwell**_

Eric decided to take the stairs since it was closer than the elevator. His first stop would be to Spenser's room. He needed to see for himself how the rookie fared. Next up would be Quinn, and then the rest of the men should be settled into their rooms, and he would go one by one to provide them an update on everyone, Jason would be last.

He entered the stairwell, the door closing silently behind him, and caught a furious and familiar voice coming from somewhere above. Eric halted and listened, forcing himself to stay in place as he wanted to both rage and rejoice at the content of the one-sided conversation.

"No, the righteous rattlesnake still lives … this didn't work. You promised this would be the best way to rid the world of the hypocritical viper and not affect record profits. It was risky involving SEALs. They're pissed and looking for someone to hang since their precious rookie was seriously injured. They don't take kindly to that sort of thing.

"But, I swear, if I have to spend one more …" the voice trailed off and halted a moment before resuming, "I don't care how much it costs … do it, and make sure it appears to be an accident. I'm done playing the cow-towing idiot."

Eric backed out of the stairwell and pulled out his phone to contact the one person who would get to the bottom of what he overheard. When the line connected, he said, "Ellis, you need to look deeper into Wimbly. Just caught a portion of a phone conversation which sounded suspiciously like Richard and an unknown someone planned for Rake to die in DRC. Seems he's not such an ardent fan of hers after all."

After a short dialog, Eric hung up, stowed his rage, and returned to his previous task … first up Clay's room.

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Rough Waking and Retraining the Rookie**

 _ **Naval Hospital Naples – Room 210**_

Clay roused, fighting to stay on the beach … warm, comfortable, relaxed, as the waves smoothly rolled in and lapped his feet. He wanted to stay forever … with Brian … where nothing hurt … where everything made sense … where he was not afraid of being rejected and could be himself … in his happy place. But the more he fought the more his world changed.

Something dragged him down deeper … or pulled him up … Clay was not quite sure. The only thing he was certain of is the more he moved the harder it became to breathe. Pain rippled through his chest, side, arm, and head. He wanted to go back … back … back to Brian and his safe place.

Needing to release the tether taking him where he didn't want to go, Clay ripped it from his head. When the iron grasp on his arm was removed Clay jerked to the right, and tried to claw his way back to the beach. "Noooo. Nooooooo. I don't want to leave. I wanna return. Brian, help me."

"Clay, Clay, it's okay … relax. Hey, quit struggling." Eric tried to restrain the rookie before he pulled out stitches or shifted his ribs. When Clay yanked off the nasal cannula, Eric let go of his Spenser's arm to reach for the call button. After the nurse came on the coms he shouted, "GET SOMEONE IN HERE NOW!"

Something warm invaded his body, starting in his forearm where Brain clasped him. "Take me back."

 _"Alright, you can stay with me for a little longer,"_ Brain murmured.

Brain pulled him to his chest and held him. Clay grabbed hold of Brian's lucky shirt, refusing to let go as his best friend … his only friend … the man he claimed as a brother … comforted him. The pain melted away, replaced with a sensation of floating in a tranquil ocean … gently rocked by the waves. His breathing eased, coming in slow regular breaths instead of rapid pants. Clay drifted back to his happy place … where he was wanted … where he was loved … where his only family resided.

Eric released a long exhale as Clay collapsed into his arms after the nurse injected the mild sedative. The rookie's hand had twisted in his shirt, and Eric couldn't resist stroking the young man's back. This rookie caused emotions he never felt for a SEAL under his command before.

Though full-grown and one badass sailor, Clay Spenser could appear quite vulnerable … kid-like. The frantic, scared, and pleading blue eyes he just witnessed as Clay begged to go back somewhere, pierced Eric's heart and left a seed. Something almost paternal began to grow as he cradled the man's upper body while the meds took effect.

As Spenser's body relaxed, Eric realized he should really lay him down, but he continued to hold him … offering comfort to the unconscious rookie.

"Sir, we need to lie him down. I need to make sure no sutures were torn," Rosalie said as she resettled the oxygen tubing under her patient's nose.

"Yeah, okay." Eric moved with care to return Clay to the mattress, having to pry off the fingers still entwined in his t-shirt. He remained at the bedside while Rosalie did her checks. After she left, Eric peered down at Clay for several minutes and released a heavy sigh. "Bravo is never gonna be the same with you on the team. Rest easy now."

* * *

 _ **Three Days Later – Naval Hospital Naples – Room 210**_

Ray lowered himself into the chair near the foot of Spenser's bed. Fortunately for him, Ray ended up with the lightest bout of dysentery, though by no means left unscathed. He was the first to be out of bed, or more correctly, the restroom and had visited the others to check on them.

Sonny grumbled the loudest … ticked off the doctor wouldn't allow him to go across the hall to sit with Clay. The remorse Sonny felt must be addressed, and the only way the Texan figured he could make amends was to be at Spenser's side when the rookie awoke. But that was not happening. Instead, Davis and Blackburn, and now he took turns on that duty.

Part of Ray wanted to rip into Sonny for his behavior on the plane. But he realized that at the time Sonny reamed Clay, no one except himself, and those in Havoc witnessed what happened when they all rapidly exited the vehicles after the rebel's RPG blew up the front truck. Sonny had no idea RaRa resisted Clay's urging to move to the right. As a God-fearing man, he readily forgave his brother's rash action but struggled to turn the other cheek for RaRa.

He wondered what the status was of the investigation into Richard Wimbly … Blackburn's info had shocked him. The public relations rep seemed to be RaRa's most robust supporter. If Richard were involved in a plot to kill her and hurt Bravo team in the process, Mandy would find out, and the house of cards Richard built would crumble, and the man would suffer appropriate repercussion.

A slight movement of Clay's hand, as if he was waving, drew Ray's attention. He rose and stepped closer. After a rough waking three days ago, Clay had been heavily medicated. The analgesics not only kept him in a twilight sleep state to manage his pain but made him completely unaware of the goings-on in his room.

To Ray's thinking, the result was a welcome thing. Spenser would've surely been embarrassed by the use of a bedpan and care given by the nurses to keep him clean while dysentery ran its course. Last night the doctor began gradually reducing the meds so Clay would rouse since he needed to start consuming liquid nutrients.

His view of the beach receding, Clay waved goodbye to Brian, somewhat ready to go back. Brian spoke to him about family and brotherhood, reassuring him if he returned to the real world, everything would turn out alright. Trusting Brian had not come easy, but once they connected, he recognized his brother would never lie to him. So, he reluctantly left his happy place because he would miss having someone to confide in, someone who he didn't have to keep his shields up with … as he had to do with Bravo.

His senses slowly awakened. A steady beep reached his ears. A light whoosh of cool air tickled his skin. Reaching the next level of consciousness, he noted a softness underneath him and a dull ache in his chest. Blinking his eyelids open, which took as much effort as flipping the enormous truck tires on the obstacle course, Clay found his vision a little fuzzy. Lifting his hand, he rubbed his eyes and then blinked again.

A ceiling came into focus, and he recognized he must be in a hospital. He wasn't quite sure where. His brain still a bit foggy, he moved his gaze around the room trying to ascertain his location and stopped when he landed on Ray Perry, his 2IC. In a rough, unused voice, he asked, "Where am I?"

"Italy. Water?" Ray poured a bit into the small cup and tore off the paper covering the straw when Clay nodded. As he positioned the bendy straw between Spenser's lips, he added, "Naples Naval Hospital to be exact. And to preempt your next question, you've been here almost five days."

"Five?" Confused why Ray would be here, Clay pushed the plastic straw out after wetting his parched throat. _Bravo would've gone straight to Virginia … leaving me at the hospital. That is what happens, what always happened to me with my other teams. So why would Ray be here five days later? Do they actually care about me?_

"Yeah, the river was filthy. We all ended up with dysentery. I'm the first one allowed out of my room."

"Oh." Clay's eyes dropped to the blanket covering him as Ray's words dashed his hopes. _They didn't remain here for me. Why would they? They think I'm a royal screw-up. Sonny couldn't wait to let me have it on the plane and Hayes and Perry allowed him free rein to ride my ass. They're only here because they got sick crossing the river. I'll probably be blamed for that too._

Ray caught the dejection as Clay lowered his head. "Hey. We would've stayed anyway, brother."

"Not how teams work. No reason for you to stick around. I'm fine. You can go now," Clay mumbled as he shifted his gaze to the window, noting the twilight after sunset.

Unsure how to respond, Ray returned to his seat, contemplating Clay's words. _What kind of teams was he on? Why would he think we wouldn't remain?_

Then it dawned on Ray. _Sonny read him the riot act while he was clearly in no condition to debrief the mission. Well, hell. I shouldn't be doing Sonny's apologizing, but I can't leave Clay thinking we don't take care of our own._

"Clay, um look. Sonny didn't know you had no choice but to follow Rake. I saw what happened, and the ISR footage captured it too. You didn't do anything wrong, and Davis set Quinn straight. Sonny feels awful he ripped you a new one on the plane. He shouldn't have reacted like that.

"If I had been aware of what he intended, I would've put a stop to it before it escalated to you trying to rise to defend your action and your lung collapsing again."

Clay turned back and met Ray's gaze. "You saw? You would've stopped him?"

"Yes."

Further discussion halted as the nurse entered. "Mr. Spenser, glad to find you awake. I'm Rosalie, your nurse." She stopped at the bedside, but her eyes went to Ray. "You've been out of bed too long. Time to go rest. I need to check my patient and privacy is in order."

Ray stood. "I'll be back later." He grinned. "No hitting on Rosalie, she is happily married."

As Ray exited, he turned right not left, which would take him to Jason's room not his own.

* * *

 _ **Naval Hospital Naples – Room 215**_

"Jace, we got us a problem," Ray said without preamble as he entered the room. He realized he spoke to an empty bed and sighed. He walked to the window and stared out at the twinkling city lights well after he heard the toilet flush, sink run, and Jason's rolling IV pole squeaking as he made his way back to the bed.

"Okay … what is the problem?" Jason pulled the lightweight blanket over his lower half, not out of any sense of modesty but because the room was kept so dammed cold.

Turning to face his friend, Ray exhaled. "The kid."

"What's wrong now?" Jason's anxiety increased.

Ray waved both hands in front of him. "No. No. Not like that. He's alright … well, as alright as can be expected physically. He woke up and we talked."

"Isn't that supposed to be good?" Jason had difficulty following Ray. Usually, his 2IC was articulate and to the point — a rarity when he appeared flustered.

"Yeah, yeah. But it's … well, damn, Jace, you should've seen his face when I told him why we are all still here." Ray sunk into the chair. "I don't know how to explain it … just hit me like when I tell Jameelah no when she wants something really badly."

"Not following you, Ray. Take a breath and gather your thoughts." Jason reached for his red Gatorade, needing to replenish his fluids. He'd never been so sick in his life, and he never wanted to repeat this. Changes would be made to the supplies they brought on the plane, so none of them ever exploded from both ends again.

Ray leaned back, took several sniper breaths, re-centering himself. "Okay, from the top. The kid wakes and asks where he is. I tell him and include he's been here nearly five days. Confusion and something akin to hope lit his eyes, so I explained we all became ill.

"He dropped his gaze, and his whole demeanor changed. Damned if I can explain why, but he looked like a kicked puppy. I told him we would've remained anyway, but then he tells me that isn't how teams work and I should just go. I then explained he did nothing wrong and I would've stopped Sonny's rant had I been aware."

Ray's fists clenched. "He looked at me again … with fucking disbelief. What the hell? Jace, what did his file say about previous injuries? I get the impression no one on his teams gave a shit about him."

Jason leaned his head on his pillow and ruminated on Ray's remarks. "He got hurt a couple of times if I recall correctly, nothing serious and no mission specifics or circumstances surrounding them. He was on Team Three, and had six men under him at one point."

"I think we need to read those after-action reports. Something isn't right." Ray settled his elbows on his thighs and entwined his fingers.

"No."

"No?"

"The past doesn't matter. If as you suggest, Spenser expected to be left behind, we need to change his mindset. Team Three isn't Bravo. Spenser needs to learn we will never leave a man behind. And the best way is for us to show him through our actions."

Ray nodded. "Team is family."

"Yep. And we have a puppy to finish retraining … rookie's no longer in the kennels … Bravo adopted him, and he's ours now."

A chuckle emitted from Ray. "Not sure he would take kindly to being called a puppy."

"Well, a Rottweiler puppy then … or a Rhodesian Ridgeback."

"Nah, he's too pretty. More like a Russian Wolfhound or a Golden Retriever." Becoming serious, Ray said, "I think we'll have our work cut out for us. Something tells me Clay's bravado might be used as a mask. He wants to belong, but might not know how to trust. I mean with a father like Ash Spenser … growing up couldn't have been too fun."

"True." Jason's hand moved to his stomach as it wanted to reject the little he drank. "Shit." He scooted off the bed and rushed for the bathroom … his red Gatorade would be making a return appearance.

Ray stood, deciding to give Jason privacy, recognizing they would talk again later. Still not up to par himself, he headed for his room, needing to rest.

* * *

 _ **Two Days Later – Naval Hospital Naples – Room 210**_

Radiant sunlight streaming in through the window as the sun rose above the horizon coaxed Clay to wake. He lay with his eyes closed, debating whether or not to click the button to request more pain meds. The past two days had been somewhat of a blur.

The heavy-duty painkillers made him a little fuzzy. The one thing he was certain of, he never knew who to expect in his room when his eyelids lifted, but someone was always here. He was never alone, not day or night. Ray had been the first to visit him, but afterward, the person sitting in the chair rotated between Davis, Blackburn, Jason, and Trent.

Quinn and Reynolds were the only two who had not been in here. Trent explained to him Brock had been hit hardest, retching long after the others quit. Sonny, on the other hand, had been restricted to his bed by the doctors because tripped while returning from the restroom and rammed his head into a solid wood cabinet.

The urge to pee became acute, and Clay's hand reached for the button to raise the head of the bed without opening his eyes. He hissed as his ribs protested.

"Hey, need a hand or pain meds?"

"No. I'm good." Clay turned eyes on Reynolds, his surprise increasing as he spied Cerberus lying at Brock's feet, his head on his paws, snoozing.

A grin covered Brock's face. "Snuck him in. Cerb's real good at hiding under beds or behind chairs, so the nurses don't catch him. He whined so much in the kennel on the plane that Rob, with the help of Blackburn, brought him last night."

The plethora of words from the quiet dog handler further astonished Clay. He pushed himself to the edge of the mattress, slower than he would've liked, and clenched his jaw, refusing to exhibit how much he hurt. "I won't tell."

"Didn't think you would rat him out." Brock observed the painful movements, knowing via first-hand experience how much broken ribs hurt, but he held off asking if Clay wanted help again. If the rookie was anything like the rest of them, he would rather do things under his own power unless he was unable.

Clay gripped his IV pole. "Gotta … you know."

"Yeah. Want anything to eat? I can round you up anything you want."

As Clay took shuffling steps to the bathroom, his stomach rumbled at the suggestion of food. He was ravenous, but not for hospital fare. Before he could answer, Brock rose and gave a command to Cerb, who belly crawled under the bed.

"Rosalie showed me where they keep the raspberry sherbet. Want some?"

Something cool and light sounded just about right so Clay nodded. "Sure."

By the time he finished in the restroom and opened the door, Brock had returned, and on the rolling table sat half-a-dozen cups of the raspberry treat. Getting back in bed and situating himself left Clay sweating and panting.

Rosalie entered and noted the creases around her patient's furrowed brow, indicating pain. "Brock, you are right. He needs relief." She cleaned the port after checking Clay's ID and injected the analgesics.

Clay's eyes shot to Reynolds. "You asked her to bring meds?"

"Yep. No need to be in agony. I had broken ribs once. Sucked. And they hurt like hell with every little movement." Brock snagged one of the sherbets and opened it.

Finished with Clay's meds, Rosalie smiled as she crouched and pulled something from her pocket before waving it near the floor. "Wanna treat, puppy?"

Cerb's nose poked out from under the bed, tempted by the smell of rich roast beef.

"How did you know?" Brock hung his head as Cerb nibbled the dog biscuit.

Rosalie stood and said, "The night nurse told me. My dog Rex, loves those treats."

"How did you have treats here?" Brock asked.

"I didn't. Called my husband before he left our place and he brought me a little baggie of the biscuits our dog Rex likes. Now, you need to ensure he remains hidden when the doctors make rounds, but as far as I'm concerned, Cerb is a member of your team and welcome to stay. Nothing better than ruffling a bit of fur to relax."

She refocused on Clay. "Can I bring you something more nutritious for breakfast?"

Clay's first smile bloomed. "No, thanks. This is perfect." He scooped up a spoonful of the raspberry sherbet.

"If you change your mind, use the call button." Rosalie turned and headed out.

The two men sat in silence as they consumed all six sherbets. His stomach satisfied, for now, Clay rested his head on his pillow and closed his eyes. A slight jostling, nothing to cause him pain, made him reopen. His second smile grew as he peered at soft brown orbs on a furry head.

"Cerb likes you. I'll call him down if you want." Brock raised the footrest on the recliner, intending to stay put for a while, ready for a little snooze, but unwilling to return to his room.

"No, he's fine." As if Cerb understood Clay granting permission to remain, the hair missile circled three times before settling at the foot of the bed, laying his head on Clay's shin and staring up at him.

"Did Cerb get sick?" Clay asked.

"No. Damned glad I carried him across the river." Brock yawned and shut his eyes. "Sorry, still tired. Go ahead and watch TV if you want."

"You don't need to stay."

"I do."

"Why?"

"It's what Bravo does."

"What?"

"Take care of our own. You're one of us now. Get used to it."

Clay gaped at Reynolds. Three little sentences that his heart seized upon. Not wanting to sound like a needy child by asking if Reynolds and the others actually wanted him, Clay kept his mouth shut and accepted them at face value. A third smile crossed his features, this one reaching and lighting his eyes.

Picking up the remote, he switched on the television and flipped through the channels until he landed on a replay of a rugby game. Somewhere in the middle of the broadcast, he drifted off to sleep, content for the first time in ages.

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Reaping What You Sow**

 _ **Four Days Later – Naval Hospital Naples – Room 210**_

Clay stared at his lunch tray … sick to death of hospital food … contemplating asking one of the guys to bring him an MRE. Now that was saying something because Meals Ready to Eat was a misnomer if there ever was one. Typically, he wouldn't wish them on his worst enemy unless he wanted them to choke to death. But the reddish-brown undistinguishable glob on his plate made him realize there was something worse than MREs.

Shifting his gaze to the windows, he thought about getting up and finding the raspberry sherbet, but that would require moving and that still fucking hurt. Escorted by the physical therapist, he did laps around the floor several times a day to prevent blood clots in his legs from laying in bed, and to exercise his lungs. After each time he was in agony and thoroughly wiped out … so fatigued he napped for several hours. Well, to be honest, the pain meds were partially responsible for his extended naps.

In the past few days, he spent more time alone in his room. He debriefed with Blackburn and Jason, providing his after-action account, which conflicted in almost every detail from what RaRa said. He still couldn't wrap his head around why she accused him of wanting to rape her and ripping her shirt to accost her. And putting her in front of charging rhinos … laughable.

But it was not a laughing matter. The brass took her accusations seriously and insisted on a full inquiry. Probably because whoever arranged for Bravo to escort her in the first place … which they should've never been used in this capacity … pulled some sort of strings. Blackburn assured him all would eventually be sorted out. Jason did too and told him not to worry.

Though being told not to, and actually not, were two separate things. Being a tier one operator had been his only goal in life. Now some redheaded bitch who he risked his life to save, repays him by kicking him in the ribs, busting them, and making ridiculous claims which could ruin his career before it ever really began.

And RaRa was not his only concern. Ray said Sonny was sorry for reaming him, but as of yet, the Texan had not shown his face once in his room. Quinn had been released three days ago without stopping in and had not been back to visit … not once. Tension on a team could get people killed, and if Quinn couldn't or wouldn't accept him … then Clay knew who would be transferred off Bravo regardless of he got along with the other four … him.

His mood souring by the minute, Clay's desire to hit something increased. It was a vicious cycle because he could barely walk to the damned restroom without being winded … so ripping into a heavy bag to relieve his pent-up rage would be out of the question … which only made him angrier.

Coming to a boiling point, Clay's hand swiped across his rolling table, sending the lunch tray slamming into the wall. He growled as the congealed reddish-brown whatever dripped down the white wall.

* * *

 _ **Naval Hospital Naples – Outside Room 210**_

Sonny stood rooted in place, more weight on his uninjured leg and the cane Trent made him use. Four times a day … every day for the past three days, he stood here trying to figure out how to apologize to the kid. And each time, he turned and walked away, unable to find the words.

No one would ever accuse him of being a conversationalist. He could do funny, sarcastic, a quip to break the tension, but touchy-feely seemed to be out of his repertoire. He was a pipe-hitter, through and through. More comfortable with firing bullets than words of remorse. Hell, the Canadian Special Forces motto might apply to him … Deeds Not Words.

Jason's glare this morning meant bossman was at his limit and about to do something drastic if he didn't get his ass in gear and resolve the dissension between him and Clay. This was all his fault, and Sonny accepted that … but accepting and verbalizing he screwed up to a rookie … two very different skillsets.

A crashing sound, followed by a growl resolved his dilemma and had Sonny rushing into Spenser's room, worried the kid fell and re-injured himself.

* * *

 _ **Naval Hospital Naples – Room 210**_

Sonny halted four steps into the room, staring at Spenser who sat in the bed, unhurt … well, not more hurt. "What the hell?"

Clay's head whipped to the doorway. His mood in the pits, he ground out, "You got the wrong room. Get the fuck out. I don't need any of your shit!"

"Well, hold on there, Rough Rider."

His eyes narrowing, Clay glared at Quinn. "I said leave."

Sonny's brow arched as he chewed his toothpick, but he remained in place. He held Clay's gaze and realized why Jason was so pissed at him. The kid looked like crap … dark circles under his lackluster blue eyes. Nothing like the cocky go-getter who arrived raring to go in the DRC ten days ago. Hell, the rookie had looked better on the plane when he tried to defend himself.

"Look, um, well." Sonny stopped, the words not coming.

"Go! And don't let the door hit your ass on the way out." Clay turned away. _Where did that come from?_ His vitriolic response not what he expected to emerge, something in him driving him to be a royal jackass to Quinn, perhaps the need for retribution of sorts … or just a foul mood.

And the same could be said for Sonny's retort, "Little Boy Blue's having himself a real fine pity party."

"Screw you!"

"Nah, I prefer women." Sonny limped around the bed … but stayed out of arms' reach. He turned his gaze to the mess on the wall before focusing on one pissed off rookie. "I'm not leaving until you get your ass outta that bed and clean up your mess. Nurse Rosalie ain't your maid, and you ain't Richie Rich."

Clay glowered at Bravo Three as he rounded the bed, giving him the silent treatment since apparently, the man refused to heed his demand he leave. He noted the cane and the limp and wondered about it. No one told him Sonny had been injured other than tripping and hitting his head coming out of the restroom, but hell if he would ask him how his leg got hurt.

Sonny didn't miss the direction of Clay's gaze before they resolutely redirected out the window. Nor did he fail to read something more than anger in those blue orbs. He might not be a man of words, but he could read body language … a necessary skill in the field, and one that kept them alive on many occasions.

The overly rigid posture had to be painful on the rookie's ribs. And beyond the heat in the kid's eyes, Sonny glimpsed something akin to what had reflected in his grandninny's eyes the day his grandfather died … fear and longing. None of that made any sense to Quinn. The rookie would be running with them again as soon as his ribs healed … several weeks for sure, but he would be back.

Sonny remained quiet, studying the recalcitrant rookie as Ray's, Jason's, and hell even Brock's words swirled in his head. Reynolds, a man of even fewer words than he had unleashed a category five hurricane of them on him yesterday. _Could they all be right? Are his swagger and overconfidence armor he uses to protect a scared and lonely kid inside?_

He lowered himself into the recliner when his leg began throbbing. With the tense silence stretching between them, he got comfortable because he could wait the kid out … one benefit of not being a man of words. Sonny pushed back his cowboy hat and maintained a relaxed façade as he kept his gaze on the rookie.

When he couldn't take Quinn's presence any longer, Clay shifted to the other side of the mattress, dangled his feet, and pushed off his bed, holding in the hiss that wanted to come out. He refused to show weakness in front of Quinn. Thankful the IV had been removed yesterday, less of an impediment in walking, Clay headed for his door.

"Where, ya going, Ricky Raccoon?" Sonny rose and steadied himself with the damned cane.

"None of your business. And the name is Spenser to you." Clay shuffled out of his room.

Sonny caught up, unsure what was going through Spenser's head, but he couldn't help but challenge him. "How bout a trip to the rose garden … if you can make it? Ten bucks say you can't."

Clay gritted his teeth as he eyed the annoying Texan. "I'll beat your ass there every day and twice on Sunday."

"Big talk." Sonny guffawed. "Make it twenty."

The race was on … though in truth it was two turtles racing … with their injuries neither was up to being a rabbit.

* * *

 _ **Naval Hospital Naples – Rose Garden**_

Completely winded, but triumphant in his victory, Clay gingerly lowered himself onto one of the benches surrounded by fragrant red, white, pink, and yellow roses. A place designed to renew a person's spirit when cooped up in a sterile hospital for any length of time. He met Sonny's gaze. "You owe me twenty."

Sitting on the bench across the narrow path so he could face the rookie, Sonny nodded and pulled out a Jackson, and handed the cash to Clay. Resettling, he said, "I owe you more than that."

As Clay tucked the bill into his shorts pocket, Sonny took a breath and dived in. "I'm sorry. Had I known what happened, I wouldn't have laid into you on the plane. I'm not sure what drove me to be a raging bull. One minute you were talking … and shit …"

Sonny pulled off his hat and raked fingers through his hair. "And the next you were gaspin' for air and your lips turnin' blue. Trent barked orders, and well, he was shoving a tube down your throat. I thought I killed ya." He blew out another breath.

"When RaRa kicked you in the jungle, I wanted to kill her. Wrap my hands around that raptor's scrawny throat and squeeze the life out of her. Her breathing is a waste of resources … she's using air someone better needs."

Quinn shifted the toothpick to one side, chewed a moment, then grinned. "You're someone better … one helluva lot better."

Clay's brows drew together, surprised, but not ready to forgive.

"Lookie here … I'm not one for fancy speeches … hell, tried to find the words ever since that night … stood outside your room for three friggin' days trying to come in." He pulled out the toothpick, and his expression displayed his remorse, his eyes misting up unbidden. "Jesus, Kid, I'm so sorry. I screwed up, and you paid the price. That don't sit well with me. Not asking for your forgiveness … only a chance to earn it."

Dumbfounded, Clay's mouth gaped as the Mighty, Always-Riding-My-Ass Quinn rubbed his eyes to wipe away what Clay believed to be tears. Unsure what to say, Clay asked, "How'd you hurt your leg?"

Sonny blinked several times. "Kinda dusty in here … messing with my eyes." Once freed of the liquid, Sonny replied, "Rubble from the building fell on me as I ran after you when you went after RaRa. Ray spotted me, and they came and got me before the rebels did the Grim Reaper's bidding."

Shifting to relieve his ribs, Clay let the details roll around in his mind. "So, you were hurt, and you still came after me?"

"Hell yeah! Ain't leaving a brother behind … no matter how wet behind the ears he is." Sonny winked. "Trent stitched me up … I was good to go."

Being called brother overrode any irritation being referred to as inexperience caused. Clay stared, his mouth gaping slightly again as 'brother' rang in his mind repeatedly.

Noting the change, Sonny shifted away from the uncomfortable topic and asked, "So, did you really call rhinos, cubby unicorns?"

Clay chuckled, his mood lightening. "In my defense, I was feverish."

Sonny laughed. Things might not be the best between him and Spenser yet, but at least they climbed the first hurdle. Jason and the rest of the team would stop riding his ass now, and Davis would refrain from giving him the snake-eye every time she saw him. "Don't know about you, but I could use a beer."

A sigh emitted. "Yeah, but Trent and the doctors won't allow one while I'm on pain meds." He shifted once again. In his desire to beat Sonny, Clay overtaxed himself, and he reaped more than his twenty bucks reward. As his pain level began to ratchet up exponentially, he realized he would be paying for his recklessness. In retrospect, a debt he would readily bear, but privately to avoid potential ridicule.

"I better return to my room." An unwanted hiss came out as Spenser rose to his feet.

Sonny stood. He heard the hiss but would not comment on it … he hated when others noticed his weakness. And his damned cane roared it out to all who saw him. He wouldn't baby or coddle Spenser … it wouldn't be appreciated and might destroy the progress they made here. "Well, I'm gonna stop by the cafeteria. Want anything?"

Wrapping an arm around his torso, his respirations more labored and rapid than he desired, Clay shook his head. A dose of painkillers and a long nap were in his immediate future. They parted ways a short time later, Clay heading to the elevators and Sonny to the café.

* * *

 _ **Naval Hospital Naples – Room 210**_

Rousing from his dreamworld, a place which gave him respite from his pain, Clay yawned and gradually opened his eyes as low whispers, the words indistinct, tickled his ears. The first thing he noticed was his room was dim, and it was not because his blinds had been pulled down because he spied the city's lights in the distance. I must've slept the entire afternoon away.

His stomach rumbled, hungry after not eating breakfast or lunch, and the smell of something delicious wafted to him. Clay turned from the window and found the source of both.

"Well, bout time you be wakin', Rip Van Winkle. Pizza is gitin' cold, and beer's gitin' warm," Sonny drawled then took a sip of his beer before setting it down and lowering the recliner's footrest and making it slowly to his feet.

Clay's eyes widened as he noted the entire team plus Blackburn, Davis, and Ellis in his room … everyone sitting or standing, holding beers or slices of pizza.

Sonny made his way to the bed with another bottle in his hand as Trent put a paper plate with two slices of pizza on his lap.

Popping the top on the brown long-neck bottle, Sonny grinned. "Can't have real beer yet, but I brought ya a root beer."

Finding his voice as he noted Cerb curled up with a rawhide bone in the corner, happily gnawing on it, Clay asked, "Why is everyone here?"

Jason along with the others all encircled Clay's bed and became the spokesman. "Celebrating."

"What?"

"Several things. One, you're being released tomorrow, and we'll be flying home. Two, thanks to the diligent efforts of Ellis after a tip from Blackburn, Richard Wimbly has been arrested for attempted murder among other things. Three—"

"Wait! What? Murder?" Clay reached for the root beer Sonny offered him.

Mandy's lips curved in a satisfied smile. "Seems Richard couldn't stand RaRa anymore than all of us. He used his father's military connections to arrange for her trip and Bravo's escort, all to facilitate her demise. He readily confessed and gave up his accomplice with a little interrogation. The CEO of her record label began to view her as a liability given her inability to curb her racist and un-Christian comments and behavior."

Ray interjected, "Hypocrite, because planning a murder to protect profits isn't so Christianly either."

"Wow." Clay took a bite of his pizza, savoring the flavor. _At last, something decent to eat._

Jason turned to Blackburn. "You tell him the third reason for our celebration."

Eric nodded. "With pleasure. You've been fully exonerated of all charges Rake claimed. In addition, you've been awarded a purple heart and several commendations for your courage and fortitude in the face of an overwhelming enemy force."

"Yeah, anyone who can survive being around and keep from killing RaRa deserves a medal," Lisa quipped.

The room chuckled at first, and laughter rumbled when Clay said, "I did consider it a time or two … especially when she slipped in the river. Would've been easy to let her just drown."

Brock stepped forward and offered Clay a small package. "This is from a sweet girl who wanted to thank you for being kind to her."

Clay set down his pizza, wiped his hands on a napkin, and opened the paper. He stared at the photo of Ryta and three others, all beaming. "Who are they?"

Ray's hand landed on Clay's shoulder. "That is Ryta, her mother Rena, and Rena's parents. Your actions that day had far-reaching positive results. Rena is finally reunited with her parents in the States, and Ryta on the path to citizenship and being officially adopted by Rena. You did good, brother." He went on to explain the entire situation and how Rena would've stayed in DRC for Ryta's sake, unwilling to abandon her chosen daughter.

A grin formed, but Clay said, "I didn't do anything … I didn't even know Ryta's mother was American. I'm happy for her though, all four of them … having a family is something I never …" Clay trailed off before he revealed too much.

They didn't need to know he would've given almost anything at Ryta's age to have a parent who would put his needs above his own. To have a father who loved him enough to visit for more than one or two days every year. Pushing his thought aside, Clay asked, "What if anything happened to RaRa?"

The change of topic wasn't lost on any of Bravo. They all caught sight of the raw pain which flashed for a fraction of a second in the rookie's eyes. But Jason let that be for the moment, and responded, "Well, now that is the icing on the cake."

"Really?" Clay took a swig of root beer before picking up his pepperoni pizza again.

Jason nodded. "Oh, yeah. Somehow a fan got hold of a video recording of RaRa ranting, raving, and making repulsive and racist remarks about the children in the DRC orphanage and school she visited. It went viral, and the backlash has been rapid and virulent. Former fans showed up at the record label and started a raging bonfire with RaRa records, CDs, and other merchandise.

"The media outlets jumped on the bandwagon, and some of the investigative journalists dug into her background and finances. She has been funding a radical white supremacist group for years using a money laundering scheme. RaRa or as the ex-fans are calling her now NaNa will now be facing charges along with the members of the group who blew up several minority businesses since the funds she funneled to them were used to purchase the explosives."

Mandy added, "All Rake's assets have been seized under a domestic terrorism statute. She is penniless. She will also face assault charges if you want to lay them against her for busting your ribs and puncturing your lung. Trent and Sonny are witnesses to her attack on you and provided statements."

Clay considered the option and shook his head. "No. Don't want the hassle … or to be anywhere near her again. Besides, don't want my picture out there or the publicity. Make it hard to maintain a low profile and put the team at risk."

"Your choice, Poster Boy, but we'd have your back if you wanted to go for it," Sonny stated with resolute conviction.

His gaze moving to Sonny, Clay nodded. He took a moment to study the faces of his team, and something Adam told him when they went to notify Brain's mother of his demise … and found Brain made up a family … came to mind. _The teams are all the family any of us need. Teams are your real family … you don't know it yet, but you will._

A lump formed in Clay's throat and he fought to keep his eyes from dropping to his lap, choosing to return his focus on Sonny. "Thanks for coming to rescue me. I wouldn't be here, without …" he desperately wanted to say family, but worried they would think him needy.

Five voices, Jason's, Ray's, Sonny's, Trent's, and Brock's, all said in unison, "Team's family." Their remark punctuated by a loud "Ruff!" as Cerb hopped up on the end of his bed.

Lisa grinned as Sonny broke the emotional tension and restored a lightness as he said, "Better eat up, you're gonna need your energy if you're gonna rehab with me. I aim to be reclaiming my twenty."

Clay chuckled. "You can try … and fail." He took a huge bite. Though still a rookie, and unsure of how things would work out on Bravo and Sonny especially in the long run, for now, he would enjoy having men around him who he would risk his life for without reservation … his family.

* * *

 _ **Six Weeks Later – Virginia – Bravo Cages**_

Clay beamed as a grumpy Sonny forked over one bill after another, as he claimed his reward for beating the Texan on the latest drills. "What, this makes six times I beat you?"

Brock laughed. "Nope, seven." He tossed the ball and Cerb happily retrieved it.

"Shut up … you're the silent member of this team," Sonny groused as he slapped the last twenty of the hundred the rookie won today on a double or nothing wager.

Jason leaned back and grinned at Ray. Things had settled into a groove … his team gelling well as Clay and Sonny both recovered. His wrist had healed too, but Bravo remained off rotation until the rookie was cleared. With any luck that would be next week, though, in his mind, Spenser was ready to go now … if his performance on the obstacle course and running the hills were the only considerations.

The door opening had all the guys turning towards it.

"Hey, Davis, what brings you here? We spun up?" Sonny asked as he rested against his cage.

She shook her head. "Blackburn wants you all in the team room right away, though."

They all shut their doors and followed her out.

* * *

 _ **Bravo Team Room**_

Six men, a dog, and Lisa entered after placing their phones in the receptacle outside the room. They took their seats and waited for Blackburn to address them.

Eric's expression was unreadable as he zeroed in on Clay. "Been informed of some recent events where the result is … Miss Rake is dead."

"What?" Sonny blurted out.

"How?" Clay requested.

"Although segregated from the general population in jail for her protection, since she couldn't afford bail, Rake continued to suffer diarrhea of the mouth. Two weeks ago, several of the women in her block took offense and beat her severely.

"She was transferred to another facility, and while recuperating in the infirmary, she let her mouth run rampant again when she noted one of the other patients was a woman of color. When she healed and was placed in a cell, the inmates hassled her day and night.

"Last night, there was a riot and Rake was found dead in the restroom afterward with her throat slit and her tongue cut out. There is an investigation, but finding the culprit will be difficult, if not impossible since there are no cameras recording in the showers and the general chaos at the time of her death."

Ray's soft voice broke the ensuing silence. "Whoever sows injustice reaps calamity, and the rod they wield in fury will be broken." His eyes landed on Clay as he added with a smile, "Sow righteousness for yourselves, reap unfailing love."

In his renowned relaxed manner, Sonny broke the pall as he drawled, "Rookie owes another case of beer."

"Why?" Clay turned to Quinn.

Sonny reclined in his chair, grinned, pulled out his toothpick and replied, "First time we rescued the rookie. Don't make it a habit, Kid."

Clay couldn't hide the smile which spread. That would be one case he wouldn't mind buying … he could afford it with all the money he won off Sonny lately. And honestly, if it were coming out of his meager funds, Clay would still gladly buy the case because, with any luck, Bravo would become his real family.

.

 _~~ The End ~~_

* * *

 **AN:** Hope you liked this extra-extra long story. Would love to hear what you thought of it. Suggestions for S and T would be helpful since the muse hasn't figured out a storyline for either yet.


	19. Where's Spenser?

**Where's Spenser?**

* * *

 _Summary:_ A series of situations where someone asks, "Where's Spenser?" Climb aboard and prepare for a wild ride filled with lots of whumpage to go around.

 _Since this installment is extra long (almost 46,000 words), there are 13 chapter breaks to help you mark your place._

* * *

 **Chapter 1: For Want of a Shower**

 _ **Somewhere in the Sahara Desert – Remote Base Camp**_

 _Shower._ One word played on a loop in Clay's head. All he wanted was a shower, and it didn't matter if it was cold or hot, though given his location it would be tepid and short. But even that didn't matter. He needed to wash sand from places it should never be.

He was the last of the team to head to the showers, having to provide Mandy a detailed report from his observation post. Partly it was a rookie thing too … the others claimed seniority, so got to go first. Sometimes it really sucked being Six on a six-man team.

Though, Spenser believed even if he were covering for Ray as Two, he would still be relegated to the last man to shower … even after Cerb. That is unless Summer was running with them … at least there was one whom he had seniority over. But Summer was not with them on this spin-up.

 _Shower._ Step. _Shower._ Step. _Shower._ Step. _Shower._ Step. His destination in sight now. Step, step. _Shower._ Step, step. _Shower._ Step, step, step. _Shower. Oh, blessed shower tent._

Shedding his gear as fast as humanly possible, after hanging his towel over the partition, Clay undressed. Grabbing his bar of soap, he stepped into the stall with a huge grin plastered on his grimy face. He pulled the chain to spill enough water to get himself wet, letting some run through his sand-laden hair, watching the little beads of earth collect near the drain.

He shut off the water since conservation meant others could also shower, given that water had to be trucked into this remote camp. Rubbing the soap in his hands to create a lather, he started with his sunburned face and moved to his hair, scratching out the caked-in sand, thankful Virginia didn't experience haboobs like the Sahara desert. Next up, the private places where sand caused chafing.

Reaching with sore muscles for the lever again, ready to rinse, the earth shook beneath his feet in combination with a sonic boom. That is the last thing Spenser registered before his lights shut off and his soapy-sand-covered, naked, body slammed into the shower floor.

The explosion stunned everyone in the camp. Jason rushed out of his tent, wearing shorts and sandals only. Ray, right behind him, tossed him his weapon. In short order, Brock, Cerb, and Trent emerged from a second tent, Brock pulling on a shirt and Trent hefting his medical bag on his shoulder as he shifted the weight of his gun in his other hand.

"THERE!" Ray pointed to the billowing black smoke and orange flames.

"Shit … they hit the ammo supply." Jason started forward as soldiers spilled out of other tents all prepared to defend the camp from an unexpected attack … the sentries posted on guard duty hadn't sent up any alert before the explosion.

"Jace …" Ray's eyes caught sight of the mess tent … or what used to be the tent, as fire engulfed the sides not already collapsed. "Sonny went to grab something for the kid to eat."

All five changed direction to render aid to those crawling out from underneath the canvas … bloody, burned, and disoriented … all searching for Sonny among the injured as they ran.

His ears ringing, his equilibrium off, Sonny kept one hand on the collar of the soldier who had been standing right next to him when things went sideways in an instant. The shouts and screams around him didn't register through the Bells of St. Mary sounding off in his head. In agony, with a piece of shrapnel sticking out of his shin, Sonny continued to drag the hopefully, only unconscious, soldier behind him as he shoved his way the edge of the collapsed tent.

Several hands grabbed and pulled him, and he shouted, "HEY! NO!" as he lost his grasp on the other man.

"We got you … both of you." Jason didn't stop moving when Sonny struggled against him. He and Brock pulled Sonny free of the burning debris while Trent and Ray got the severely injured man whose side had been skewered by a pole.

Through the smoke, Sonny saw his team and surrendered his grasp on the sentient world as his eyes rolled back in his head, knowing they would save him.

Organized chaos reigned as the uninjured men ensured a secure perimeter for the encampment, worked to put out the fires before they spread, set up a triage area and a morgue, while the commanding officer called for CASEVAC support.

Sweating, exhausted after working to save several critically wounded men, successful in most cases, but losing seven, Trent returned to Sonny who had been tagged as stable. Trent was the only full medic in the camp, though others possessed varying levels of competence, so he had to prioritize and focus on the most severe cases first, though part of him wanted to treat Sonny before anyone else. As he sat back on his heels, he blew out a long breath as he studied the shrapnel in Sonny's shin before tackling removing it.

"How bad is it?" Jason squatted on the opposite side and peered at the piece of metal after wrapping a soldier's burned arm.

"Not too severe. Don't think it struck anything major. Wanna give me a hand?" Trent removed soiled gloves, preparing to slip on clean ones.

"Here. Drink or we're gonna be treating you for dehydration," Ray shoved a bottle of water to Trent as he wiped soot off his face.

"Thanks. Anymore injured found?" Trent sipped though he wanted to guzzle the tepid liquid.

Ray, who had been helping to shift through the ruined mess tent, shook his head. "No, the last bodies were located." His eyes moved to the area set up as a morgue, sighing as he noted twelve black body bags.

Brock trotted up with Cerb, who wore little booties to protect his paws from the burning sand. "No sign of any insurgents. The Supply Sergeant insists he saw no one that shouldn't be here milling around the ammo depot."

"Could be sabotage by one of the local soldiers. A sleeper who saw an opportunity to wreak havoc and kill a number of us." Jason gloved up as Trent did, ready to assist.

Sonny's eyes blinked open. The ringing lessened from earlier, enough to distinguish actual words and he caught Jason's comment. He scanned his brothers surrounding him and smiled when Cerb's snout nudged his cheek and licked him. "Hey. What happened?"

Shielding Sonny's face from the intense sun, Ray answered, "Supply depot blew up. Not exactly sure how it happened, but we suppose it was on purpose. None of our guys would be careless enough to cause an explosion."

The words 'our guys' caused Sonny to screw up his face, which was timed with Trent pulling out the shrapnel. He growled.

Brock, who now knelt next Sonny's shoulder, pressed down as he said, "Hang tight. The worst is over … it's out. Trent just needs to apply and hold pressure to stop the bleeding. You'll have another little scar to tell stories about."

Sonny's gaze moved around him. Jason, Ray, Trent, Brock, Cerb. "Where's Spenser?"

"SHIT!" erupted from four mouths as four pairs of eyes widened and turned in unison towards where the showers were located. Jason, Brock, Ray, and Cerb moved as one … rising and racing for the collapsed and lightly singed canvas of the shower tent which was on the opposite side of the supply depot from the mess tent.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Sorry Sailors**

 _ **Somewhere in the Sahara Desert – Remote Base Camp**_

Stirring, his world discombobulated, weighted down, cocooned in something heavy and soggy, Clay blinked open his eyes, only to promptly squeeze them shut as pinpoints of sunlight stabbed stakes into his skull. He took several moments to just breath as he tried to sort out where he was … then it struck him … _Shower tent._

Squinting, to ward-off as much pain as possible, as he opened his lids again to find a way out. Towards the light would be best … and worst … his spinning head told him. But try as he might to squirm his way to the only opening, the canvas on top of him kept him in place, which didn't make any sense to him. _Heavy-duty fabric, but only cloth … it shouldn't be trapping me like this._

The shouts and activity going on outside his cocoon told him something terrible happened, and he wanted to get out of here to make sure his brothers were alright, but he couldn't. While wishing he had his knife to cut through the fabric to release himself, Clay took short, shallow breaths as nausea decided to come to his party … becoming more pronounced with each beat of his heart thundering in his skull.

When the noises outside receded, he called out for help. As he waited, the sweltering heat began to take a toll, and he slipped into a hazy, semi-conscious state, unaware if anyone heard his plea for assistance or not.

Which they had not. It took a dazed and stunned Sonny to call attention to the fact Spenser was missing before three of the six men of Bravo raced for the collapsed shower tent. Each man kicking himself for not noticing Clay was absent in the last thirty minutes.

"HERE!" Jason shouted as he located a man-sized lump under the soaked canvas … thankfully, between two huge water tanks and not under one of them.

Brock whipped out his knife, the only one to be wearing most of his tactical gear since he had helped secure the perimeter with Cerb while the others assisted with the rescue efforts and tending the wounded soldiers. He knelt and carefully but swiftly sliced the fabric.

Ray and Jason gripped the opening Brock made and began ripping, some might say frantically, but as elite, top-tier SEALs they wouldn't admit to being frantic or panicked … no, they would claim, to anyone watching, their actions to be necessary and steady. But if truth be told, all three worried what they might find beneath the wet cloth … a dead brother they forgot about high on their 'dammit, he better not be' list.

Peeling away the fabric revealed Spenser's stark-naked body. None of them gave a damn about his state of undress … hell, they all showered in front of one another often enough not to care about such things. What bothered them was blood slowly oozing from a gash on the side of his head and his semi-consciousness.

Jason took charge, checking for broken bones as Brock used his body to shield Clay's already sunburned face and the delicate parts of his body from the brutal sun. Ray did rip off a piece of canvas and draped it over Spenser's groin … knowing he would appreciate it if he were in the kid's position.

"Spense, hey kid, can you hear me?" Not finding anything busted, Jason breathed a sigh of relief as he called to the kid. Lightly tapping his cheek, Jason said, "Come on. Wake up. Show us those blue eyes."

Moaning and trying to pull away, Clay blinked open upon Jason's command. He slammed his eyes shut again as the daggers stabbed his skull again. He mumbled, "Gonna be sick."

In an instant, he was rolled to his side, and he lost the battle with his stomach … spewing the contents … which amounted to only a little watery bile … the reason for Sonny's excursion to the mess tent in the first place, Spenser hadn't eaten in almost a day.

"He's slippery," Ray said as he held Clay's shoulders while Jason pressed a gauze pad to the cut on the kid's head.

"Soapy. He was showering," Brock offered, wanting to do more to help than be a sunscreen. His eyes landed on the water tanks which surprisingly were still intact. "Want me to get water to rinse him off?"

Trent trotted over after bandaging Sonny's leg. He had to promise to send someone over with an update on Spenser in order to get the Texan to agree to stay put. "How is he? Anything severe?" He squatted next to Jason, who held Clay's head as the kid puked.

"Only the cut to his head … and throwing up started when he opened his eyes. Thinking concussion because he wasn't quite with it when we sliced this open." Jason shifted, his back feeling the effect of the afternoon sun, and he wished he had pulled on a shirt at some point in the last half hour, but people's lives were more important than suffering a sunburn.

Clay moaned as he spat the foul taste out of his mouth.

"Done?" Jason asked.

"Yeah."

They rolled Spenser to his back, and his hand came up to cover his eyes … becoming more aware of his surroundings. "Shit. Someone blew up my shower."

His teammates chuckled, and Trent said, "Head hurting?"

Annoyed his shower was interrupted and realizing he lay here buck-ass naked, feeling like shit, a sour note entered his tone as he gave Trent a snarky answer, "No shit, Sherlock!"

"Hey, be nice to me, or I'll let you suffer." Trent's actions countered his words as he gave Clay a shot of painkillers. He glanced at Ray. "Go grab the sheets off our cots to wrap him in." Shifting his gaze to Brock, he added, "Find a bucket so we can rinse him off a bit … covered in sand can't be comfortable."

Clay kept his eyes firmly clamped shut, clenched his jaw, and gritted his teeth as he allowed his brothers to do what they will with him. In short order water slushed over him several times, they snuggly wrapped him in a sheet, bandaged his head, and moved him to a stretcher.

At some point, he drifted off … the painkillers taking full effect. He was not aware of being loaded into a helo beside Sonny, or that Jason and Trent crowded into the bird around them as Ray, Brock, and Cerb, who would gather everyone's gear and take the next flight out, stood back and watched them take off.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital**_

Sonny's arm crossed his chest, glaring at Jason, Ray, Trent, and Brock from his hospital bed, still thoroughly pissed off. He wasn't about to let any one of them off the hook. "Not once did it cross your minds Spenser wasn't with you? Not a single solitary moment of … where is the little shit … why isn't he with us pulling Sonny outta the mess tent … Really?!"

Jason started to open his mouth, but Sonny wasn't finished. "He ain't the silent type like Brock. And hell, not even Cerb did his barking … going off the deep end antics when the kid isn't within sight." His glare shifted to the ground beside his bed in time to catch Cerberus hang his head as if in shame.

"At least the dog has the good sense to be ashamed of himself. Thirty minutes … thirty shameful minutes you forgot about our little brother. You better figure out a way to make it up to him. You broke a trust. I ain't telling him you screwed up, you are, and you damned well NEVER do that shit again."

Sonny's gaze turned to Clay, who lay sleeping in the other bed. The kid had been miserable with a massive headache brought on by light sensitivity. His brother had been sick to his stomach more times than Sonny could count in the last sixteen hours, putting Spenser's body through the proverbial wringer … so physically exhausted, he finally succumbed to sleep, helped along with antiemetics and painkillers.

"You done?" Jason asked.

"Yeah, I said my piece." Sonny leaned back … not in much better shape than Clay. The pounding headache and the throbbing in his shin making him surly … but still grateful he didn't puke his guts out like his roommate.

"Good. Get some rest. We'll be back in the morning." Jason pivoted and strode out of the room. Once outside, he slumped against the wall and raked both hands through his hair as self-recrimination ate at him and the other guys sauntered out.

"Sonny's right. We screwed up. How are we going to make this right?" Ray leaned on the opposite wall and peered at the door Trent shut behind him as the last man to exit. His gaze moved to Brock, who appeared as hang-dog as the hair missile. The similar sorrowful expressions of the two almost … almost made him snicker, but the seriousness of the situation dampened his reaction.

"Don't know. Need a beer." Jason pushed off the wall … striding out, pissed off at himself. He failed today. His job was to ensure his men … all of them were safe … and he fucking forgot Spenser. It wasn't like he was new … a rookie … he was one of them … been through hell and back with them … saved their asses many times. He couldn't blame the chaos … that was their world. They operated in more chaotic environments all the time … and he never until today forgot a single man … not even a strap.

Ray hurried after Jace. Bravo One, his best friend, was not in a good headspace. Hell, none of them were. Ever since he stood watching the helo take to the air with the kid in it, he tried to work out in his mind how they allowed something like this to happen. Ray still didn't have any satisfactory answers.

As Jason and Ray left, Brock squatted next to Cerb and scratched behind his ear, sharing a commiserating look with his dog. He had taken the time to put on Cerb's botties … ones Clay bought for the pup when they found out they would be spun up to do recon in the Sahara. The kid said the sand would be irritating and burn Cerb's paws. Got the special gift for both Cerb's and Brock's sake after recalling Brock carried Cerb when they hiked to exfil in Hércules, Mexico.

And even as he put on the booties … he hadn't realized Clay hadn't been there helping to drag Sonny out of the mess tent. Brock couldn't for the life of him understand why neither he nor Cerb, who still curled up to sleep with the t-shirt he stole from Clay's place after the Nepal mission, missed Spenser today.

It disconcerted him more than anything … more than seeing the photo of Clay hanging from the hook and even more than when they found him in Tibet with all those burns on his back. Because each of those times they were actively aware he was missing and searching for him. This time … they had been clueless … careless … and that didn't sit well in his stomach.

Brock rose and peered at Trent who stared at the closed door. "You going or gonna stay here?"

Pulled from his revive, Trent shifted his gaze to Brock. He sighed and pushed back his shaggy hair. "Not sure."

"The medical staff is taking care of both of them." Brock exhaled heavily.

"Yeah … but I think one of us … besides Sonny, should be in that room when Spenser is more coherent. He's gonna think … hell, I don't know what he's gonna think. I just need to be here … unlike at the remote base."

"Hey … this isn't on you Trent. Your focus was on guys who were bleeding out … trying to save their lives. Me, on the other hand … I should've—"

Trent interrupted. "You what ... should've not ensured the base was secure while most people's attention was on the injured? Not organized the local military to protect everyone if there had been an insurgent force ready to attack?"

Brock's fist clenched. "I should've realized Clay would've been right beside me doing the same thing if he were able. And when he wasn't … I should've of damn-well noticed. Yeah, he might only have a small gash and a headache … concussion … but he could've bled out had he had a stick in him like the guy Sonny was trying to help when we found him."

There was nothing Trent could say to rebut Brock's words. "You staying too, then?"

"Yeah. I'll take Cerb out to relieve himself, grab us coffee, and a sandwich. I'll be back shortly."

They separated, Trent going back into the room, and Brock heading to the stairwell to sneak Cerb outside and grab a snack from one of the street vendors close to the hospital.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Lo Siento Marinero Pub**_

His second tequila in hand, Jason stared at the wall with a poorly drawn image of a drunken sailor with a morose face at the back of the Sorry Sailor Pub. The bar's name fit his mood. He was one sadsack … throwing himself a pity party as he beat the shit out of himself mentally.

Returning from the men's room, Ray patted Jason's back as he resumed his seat beside Jason. When his friend flinched and shied away, he grimaced. "Sorry … forgot the sunburn." He lifted his beer and took a long draw recalling the bright red shoulders and back on Jason when they showered at the barracks and changed into civvies before leaving the base.

"Forgetting is something we seem to be doing a lot of today." Jason knocked back his shot and waved to the bartender for another.

The slight verbal slap didn't go unnoticed by Ray, but he didn't retort, only nodded in agreement. "So, what are you gonna do?"

"Drink."

"After that?"

"Drink some more."

"Jace—"

Turning hard-edged eyes on Ray, Jason snapped, "What?"

"Com' on this won't solve the situation with Spenser."

"Not trying to solve anything … getting shitfaced." When his tequila was delivered, Jason requested two more shots as he slammed down the one before him and chased it with his beer.

Ray sucked in a breath as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Not the best idea."

"Don't give a shit what you think."

"Yeah, you do."

"Not tonight. Tonight, I'm sayin' goodbye to my career."

His face screwing up in confusion, Jason's words taking a complete detour from what he expected, Ray asked, "Say again?"

Swallowing another shot, Jason shifted in his seat, turning to peer out at the bar patrons. His eyes found the only blond man in the room, spiking his guilt more. "I'm responsible for all of you, and I failed Blondie today. Kid could've died before …" He finished off the tequila as the memory of the first op with Spenser came to mind.

Jason asked, "Remember our first mission with Spenser?"

"When he swacked Samir?" Ray wondered what that mission had to do with now.

"No, his first official mission as Bravo Six, not as a strap."

"The Russian defector?"

"Yeah. When Spenser and I hunkered down, I told him to get some sleep, and he responded he could go one day without racking out. That led to me asking about Stella … letting him know if he wanted her to be notified if he was killed or jacked up, she needed to be his legal next of kin. The kid said he never imagined his first day as a DEVGRU operator he would be sitting there with his team leader playing Dr. Phil."

Jason reached for his beer and slugged down a swig. "You know what I said to him?"

"No, but I bet you're gonna tell me." Ray swiveled on the bar stool to face outward too, stealing a glance at Jason.

"I told him what I care about are the guys on my team. And they cannot afford to be distracted. Margin of error is zero. My error margin today is so far off zero … I failed him. I've been screwing up ever since Alana served me with divorce papers … and only got worse after she died. My attention has been split … I'm the one distracted, and he is the one who suffered."

"Jace, … I'm saying again … this isn't all on you. We, you and me own this. Trent and Brock were focused on what they needed to be. We failed Spenser, and we will find a way to salvage things with the kid." Ray let his mind wander over the time Clay had been with Bravo and let out a sigh.

He set down his beer. "Things haven't gone smooth for us in a long time, and we've been on mission after shitty mission of late. We've all had personal shit and crises to deal with. Maybe we all need a bit of a break … time to put our heads back on straight. Perhaps Bravo needs to be stood down for a month or so … might do us all some good because you're right … mistakes like today shouldn't happen. And that is on you and me. The guys depend on us to bring them home."

Jason considered Ray's words. "Suppose you could be right …" he trailed off. Forgetting Spenser today, shredded him to the core. "But perhaps all that is needed is a change in who is Bravo One." He chugged his beer and stood up.

"You don't mean that!" Ray scooted off the stool his eyes rounding, stunned, unsure how to respond.

"Maybe I do."

"Jace—"

Whatever Ray would've said was stopped by the massive, ham-like fist slamming into the side of his head. As he crumpled to the sticky barroom floor, Ray didn't see Jason's fist fly at the man who struck him. Nor was he aware of the all-out brawl which ensued.

The unprovoked attack on his best friend unleashed Jason's rage which was further fueled by his inner turmoil over the Spenser situation. Jason lost his shit, and by the time MPs and Spanish police arrived, six men lay on the floor or across tables.

Luckily, the bartender conveyed to the authorities Jason didn't instigate the scuffle. So he was not arrested with the men who came into the pub solely intent on starting a fight with American sailors … not expecting to find themselves in the cross-hairs of one extremely pissed off SEAL.

Breathing heavy, Jason slid down beside Ray, and gently lifted his head, shifting it in his lap while waiting for medical personnel to arrive. The swelling at Ray's temple worried the hell out of Jason. "Ray … Ray … God, Ray … you gotta be alright. Naima needs you. I need you. The team needs you … please."

If anyone had asked, Jason would've blame the shaking of his body on the adrenaline coursing through his veins … but in reality, he was scared of losing his best friend.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Simple Simon Strikes**

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – ER Waiting Room**_

Briskly striding into the emergency room, Blackburn didn't halt until he was standing in front of Hayes. The master chief's head was bowed, and his forearms rested on his thighs as he played with a rubber band. He noted the scraped-up knuckles. "Jason?"

Slowly lifting his head, Jason presented a bruised and swollen face with a couple of black sutures above his left eyebrow, which would've blended in except for the redness. "Eric."

"Jesus, you look like shit. Your message was cryptic. What the hell happened? How is Ray?"

Jason related what happened in the Sorry Sailor pub, then said, "They haven't come out to tell me anything yet, and they wouldn't allow me to be in his room after they stitched me up. Perhaps you'll have some sway." Jason sighed. Weary of screwing up. "If I hadn't gone there to marinate my sorry ass in tequila … Ray wouldn't have been sucker-punched. Hell, I had so much to drink I didn't even see the shithole until after he struck Ray and fell to the ground."

A small smile formed. "Made them pay, though. They'll be sore for weeks. Some might be on soft foods for months with broken jaws." He blew out a breath and sagged back in the chair. "Can you go check on Ray?"

"Sure. Wait here."

"Not going anywhere."

Eric nodded and moved off to the nurses' station. After a short conversation, he was led back into the treatment area.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Stairwell**_

Brock trotted up the stairs, somewhat disgusted with his lack of language skills. He had difficulty speaking with the street vendor and truly didn't know what he ended up with for him and Trent to eat. He held the two foil-wrapped whatevers against his chest along with one of two piping hot coffees … at least they smelled like coffee when he pointed to them … and the other one was in his hand.

This juggling act necessary because Cerb's strap was loosely wound round his other hand since the clip decided to break as he tried to secure it to his belt loop after he ordered the food. He rounded the second-floor landing when the door opened up, and he abruptly stopped, hoping like hell whoever it was didn't immediately kick him and Cerb out of the hospital.

Unfortunately, the person was not watching where they were going in as they backed into the stairwell while speaking to someone in the hallway. Unable to move fast enough to move out of the way, the man ran into his arm holding the coffees and snack. The paper cups crushed, spilling hot coffee on his hand and soaking his shirt.

Brock dropped everything, including the leash as the burning liquid seared him. And as he was splashed, he jumped in response, slipping on the spilled coffee, sending him tumbling down the steps, and landing splayed out on his back at the bottom.

Cerb growled at the stranger, angry he hurt his partner. _Watch where you're going stupid!_ Before the man could react, Cerb darted down the stairs to Brock. He whimpered. _Are you okay?_

Sitting up, shaking his stinging hand, and pulling the hot fabric away from his stomach, Brock said, "I'm fine, Cerb, … stand down."

Rushing down the steps behind the dog, Seaman Simons knelt next to the curly-haired man. "I'm so sorry. I should've been more careful. Are you hurt? Anything broke?" The hospital corpsman's eyes widened, noting the bright red hand and soaking wet, brown-stained shirt. "Besides needing a change of clothes, a doctor should examine your hand and stomach. Those appear to be at least second-degree burns."

Brock pushed up to his feet, peered down at the mess, sighed, and said, "I'll just have Sawyer look at it."

"Sawyer?"

Shifting his gaze up again, Brock explained, "My team medic. He's upstairs with our teammates. Was taking him a snack 'cause he won't leave until—" Brock stopped abruptly as he caught sight of Cerb gnawing on the now unwrapped food. "NO! Don't eat that! You might get sick."

Cerb glanced up, no remorse in his eyes … more like he was smirking. _Mmmm, yummy sausage shouldn't go to waste._ But he obeyed and backed away from the sumptuous smelling morsels, but swallowed the bits he already had in his mouth.

Simons registered the canine again. "Hey, pets are not allowed in the hospital."

"Cerb's not a pet … he's a SEAL."

"He's not a seal … they swim in the sea and don't have four legs or …" feeling stupid as he realized what the bearded man meant, Simons trailed off. "Oh, um, sorry, again." Wanting to make amends he inquired, "What room are your teammates in?"

Suspicious, Brock eyed the corpsman. "Why?"

"Well, the least I can do for knocking you down the stairs is to send you something decent to eat. My wife works at a little restaurant not far from the hospital. They make the best salchica, a thin pork sausage with a savory sauce made with setas which are wild mushrooms. And for a sweet treat, they have sobao … a Spanish delicacy … a traditional cake flavored with lemon zest and rum." Simons' mouth watered just thinking about the dessert.

"Sounds delicious. Room four seventeen."

Simons smiled. "I'll clean this up too. You better hurry and sneak Cerb into the room before someone else spots him and makes you take him out … SEAL or not, they don't like animals in the hospital."

"Then Sonny shouldn't be here," Brock quipped.

"What?"

"Never mind. Thanks." His hand and stomach still stinging, Brock trotted up the stairs, not looking forward to bothering Trent with treating him … but he needed some aloe vera salve at the very least for his burns.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Fourth Floor**_

"What the hell happened to you?" Sawyer rose and moved towards Brock who stood at the entryway.

"Slipped … well, actually … doesn't matter. Need you to take a gander at my hand … and also my stomach. Probably better if we do it out here, so we don't wake Spenser or Quinn."

As Cerb trotted in and took up watch between the two beds, Trent and Brock exited. Examining the reddened skin Brock's hand, Trent asked, "How'd you burn this?"

"Hot coffee … or at least I think it was coffee. I should probably learn a bit of Spanish. At least more than the necessities of taco, enchilada, sopapilla, sangria, and senorita."

Despite the injury he was studying, Trent chuckled at Brock's list. "The second layer of skin is involved, so this is gonna blister, but it isn't too severe. Lift your shirt."

Brock complied.

Trent let out a low whistle viewing the scalded area. "That's gonna hurt like Jason's sunburn. Come with me, we need to soak your burns in cool water. I also need to find out if they have any silver sulfadiazine ointment."

Within moments of their arrival at the nurses' station, a solicitous nurse brought the requested supplies, as well as the top to a pair of scrubs for Brock to change into. Trent gently cleaned the burned areas with cool water, patted them dry, applied the silvadene, and covered them with loose gauze.

Trent's stomach rumbled with hunger. "Too bad you dropped our food. I'll see if the vending machine has something decent and meet you back in the room."

Having forgotten about the corpsman's offer until now, Brock grinned. "No need. A meal is on its way. We won't have to eat the mystery meat I purchased. How does thin pork sausages with a wild mushroom sauce sound? Oh, and dessert too … some type of cake. Can't recall what he called it, but its got rum in it."

Chuckling again, Trent handed Brock a couple of acetaminophen tablets. "No scratching or popping the blisters, and no steamy showers. You're gonna be hurting, these will help you a little better than rum cake."

"But not as tasty." Brock swallowed the pills with water provided by the nurse, then stood, eager to return and see if the food had been delivered.

As they strolled back to the room, Trent broke left at an intersection and said, "I'll steal us some decent coffee from the staff breakroom."

"You know where it is?"

"Yep."

A few moments later, Brock grinned when he spotted the corpsman standing outside the room holding several bags. "Appreciate this. What's your name?"

"Simon Simons, and yeah, my parents did that … I'm just grateful they didn't name me Simple Simons." Simon laughed. "I hope you enjoy your supper. He handed off the packages. "I gotta get back to work."

"Thanks again," Brock grinned and called over his shoulder as he entered room four seventeen.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Staff Breakroom**_

Searching for sugar, Trent squatted to peer in the lower cabinet after checking all the drawers and upper cabinets. He spied his prize and grabbed a few packets from the box. Using a wooden stir stick, he dissolved the sugar in his brew and savored the first sip. They all needed sleep, but he would rely on caffeine to keep him awake tonight in case Spenser woke and needed him.

Thinking about Brock's scalding, he went to the fridge and opened the freezer section. Iced coffee it would be … no need to take more risks tonight. He poured half from each cup into two more cups and filled all four with ice cubes. Satisfied they would be set for several hours now, he picked up the beverages, three held against his chest and one in his hand as moved to the closed door.

Leaning forward, reaching for the handle, the edge of the metal door unexpectedly slammed into his head as someone on the opposite side pushed it open. "OW!" He moved backward, his empty hand going to his forehead as he felt a trickle slithering down his face.

Seaman Simons stared as blood snaked down the man's cheek. "Oh God, not again! Sorry, so sorry. Second time today I've injured someone on the other side of a door."

Trent retreated to the sink area and set the cups down. He grabbed a paper towel and pressed it to his cut.

"What can I do?"

"Think you've done enough."

"I mean to help. Let me take a look at the gash. I'm a corpsman. Name's Simons."

Trent lowered the towel and allowed Simons to take a peek. "Deep?"

Simons shook his head. "Doubt it requires sutures, but a few butterfly strips would keep the edges together."

Trent sighed. "Do me a favor. Go get my teammate, Reynolds, from room four seventeen. His hand is burned, but he can still assist me."

"I can do …" Simon trailed off again as his face turned scarlet with embarrassment. "Four seventeen?"

"Yeah."

"Oh shit … you're a SEAL too … don't kill me."

"What?"

"I'm the one who knocked him down a flight of stairs … caused the coffee to spill on him."

"He fell down the stairs?"

"Yes."

"Did he hit his head?"

"Um, I'm not sure … the dog was growling at me."

"He's protective of Brock. You're lucky Cerb didn't sink his teeth into you."

Nervous and wanting to make himself scarce, Simons nodded. "Think the dog was distracted by the sausage rolls which came apart when … um … Brock fell."

Putting the paper towel back in place to stem the bleeding, Trent sucked in a breath. The lack of disclosure from Brock steamed him. _Five knows better than not to come clean on any potential injury._ Slipped doesn't convey plummeting down stairs. "Take these coffees to the room and tell him to meet me at the nurses' station."

"Yeah, okay. Sorry again." Simons grabbed the drinks and swiftly left.

At a slower pace, Trent entered the hall as he contemplated the series of unfortunate events. Bravo now had four banged-up members. _If Ellis discovers the person or group responsible for the supply depot blowing up, it is unlikely we will be spun up to deal with it._ The thought stuck in his craw. He wanted swift and violent payback for the twelve dead soldiers and the multitude of injured ones.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – ER**_

Trent and Brock halted when faced with Jason, Ray, and Blackburn. Simultaneous but slight variants of, "What the hell happened to you?" came from both groups.

The senior members stared at Brock who wore a blue scrub's top with his hand wrapped in gauze and Trent who now sported steri-strips above his brow. And the junior members gaped at the sutures above Jason's bruised eyebrow, the contusions on his jaw starting to change from red to a deeper purplish color, and his abraded knuckles, before moving to Ray's swollen and bruised temple.

Eric shook his head as he studied his medic and dog handler. _My men can find trouble even in the supposedly safe environment of a hospital._

Trent spoke first. "Simple Simon struck twice. Taking Brock for x-rays. His ribs are tender to the touch after being knocked down a flight of stairs, and while I don't think they're busted, I prefer to be safe than sorry."

"And you?" Jason pointed to Trent's head. "That the result of stairs too?"

"Nope. A door slammed into me. You two look like you've been in a brawl. Not fighting each other, are you?"

Ray shook his head. "No, but sort of thought Jace slugged me when I woke up. One minute we're speaking and the next a fist smashes into my head. Was steaming mad at him so I made him wait out here. Blackburn explained what actually happened."

Jason scowled. "Would never sucker punch you."

"I know … let's just chalk up my stupidity to still being somewhat dazed when I came around." Ray glanced at Jason with a somewhat sheepish expression, still not happy he initially believed his best friend would strike him.

Jason patted Ray's back and chuckled. "Sure. And for the record, I'll always have your six. The shit-for-brains moron who hit you won't be eating solid foods for months."

The guys exchanged full stories as they reentered the treatment area to find a doctor to order x-rays for Brock. Blackburn excused himself as the four began to discuss how they were going to tell Spenser they forgot about him and how they might restore his trust in them. Sixty minutes later, after Brock received welcome news … only bruised ribs, the four sore guys strolled towards the elevators to return to Sonny's and Clay's room.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Room 417**_

Tired, sore, hungry, and looking forward to the supper Simon provided them, Brock pushed open the door. "We'll share if you two are hungry," Brock said over his shoulder to Ray and Jason.

"Something sweet sounds like it will hit the spot," Ray chimed in, mostly wanting to sit somewhere quiet so the sambas in his head would settle down and hopefully stop.

Continuing into the room, Brock first spotted Cerb on the floor at the foot of the bed, licking an empty container with crumbs and sauce on his snout. "CERB, BAD BOY! YOU ATE OUR DINNER."

The yelling roused Sonny, who opened bleary eyes and groused, "Shut up. Some of us are trying to sleep."

Jason, Ray, and Brock stared at Cerb who peered up at them with an offended, sad, and satisfied expression … not knowing which should take precedence. _Not a bad boy … me good boy … me like sausage and sobao cake too._

Trent's eyes were elsewhere … Clay's empty bed. His stomach twisting, Trent swiftly moved to the bathroom. Searching inside, he found a vacant toilet seat and no one standing at the sink. Pivoting, his countenance expressed surprise, fear, and worry. "Where's Spenser?"

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Saying Sorry**

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Room 417**_

At Trent's question, everyone's stunned eyes moved to Clay's bed, finding only sheets they all shouted over one another.

"HOW DID CERB MISS HIM LEAVING?!"

"WHERE THE FUCK DID HE GO?"

"THE HELL … HOW COULD HE BE LOST AGAIN?"

"HE SHOULD BE SAFE AND SECURE IN THE HOSPITAL."

"HOW IN THIS WORLD DID WE LOSE HIM AGAIN?"

Panic rose … yeah, serious panic because their rookie, who wasn't really a rookie, their kid, who was actually a grown adult … their brother, one who wormed himself into their hearts, should be safely tucked into his bed and sleeping … but he wasn't and that scared the hell out of each one of them

And while they all set about at freaking out, Cerb calmly licked his container wanting to get every last bit of the savory sauce. His pack was not stupid … they would figure things out soon … or not. It would be fun watching them and Brock deserved it for calling him a bad boy.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Fourth Floor**_

The wispy steam swirled around Clay's head as hot water cascaded over his shoulders and down his back, soothing his sore muscles. Shifting on the shower stool he was required to sit on for safety's sake, he didn't want to leave his simple paradise, despite the present growing soreness in his butt.

He only agreed because the orderly who snuck him out of his room to take a shower said he would get in trouble if he slipped. Simons also indicated he was in enough trouble today as it was … having injured two people by being unsafe. Clay didn't want to add to the man's woes, so submitted to using the stupid seat.

Reaching for the soap, he lathered up his body, rinsed off, and repeated. The shampoo Simons provided had a hint of sandalwood and spice … nothing like his usual Irish Spring shampoo-body wash combo. The slogan for the commercial came to mind out of the blue. _Smell like you're worth exploring._ "Well, I won't be exploring anytime soon." He carefully scrubbed over the side of his head with stitches.

After sudsing up a second time, Clay let the water run through his hair, so enjoying the sensation of plentiful, perfect temperature water spilling over him. Realizing he was being somewhat wasteful, a part of his ingrained behavior not to be, having grown up in areas where people had to carry water for miles, he reached up and shut off the valve. He shook his head like Cerb after a bath, splashing water all over the walls and shower curtain.

"You done?" Simons called out.

"Yeah." Clay reached for the offered towel and began drying his body, noting the various bruises.

"I procured you a set of scrubs and some slipper socks. Thought you might like those better than the open back gowns. Though the nurses will be sad you're covered up." Simons chuckled. He overheard several of the nurses commenting on the handsome sailor with the curly blond locks.

In some ways, Simon envied the SEALs, they were chick magnets, but he reminded himself he had a pretty senorita as a wife, which more than made up for not being as sought after as these guys were.

Clay stood and wrapped the towel around his waist before sliding open the curtain. "Thanks. Appreciate everything. All I wanted was a shower … but someone blew it up. Not sure exactly what happened." He dressed as slow as a sloth, his stiff muscles protesting every movement.

His mop of hair still wet, Clay took a hand towel with him, rubbing it dry as Simon escorted him back towards his room. The orderly stopped him at the corner and peeked around to ensure it remained clear of Nurse Shirley … who Simon said was built like a Sherman Tank and just as deadly. She would surely ream him for allowing Spenser to leave his room.

"Coast is clear. I'll let you go alone the rest of the way and keep a lookout here for Shirley. Don't want her treads on my back again. She scares the hell outta most people."

Snickering at the expression of fear on Simon's face, Clay nodded. "Thanks again for sneaking me out." He started down the hall, only a short distance from the shared room with Sonny. He was curious exactly what happened and how Sonny had been hurt … probably happened when his shower blew up.

Nearing his room, he heard raised voices, but they were all on top of one another so he couldn't sort out what his teammates were shouting about. When Brock's voice raised above all others as he bellowed, "RETIRE, SONNY? NO FUCKING WAY!" Clay quickened his stride, worried something might've happened to Sonny, all sorts of scary images ran through his mind because he didn't know how badly his brother was wounded and Brock only shouted if the shit hit the fan.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Room 417**_

As the others continued to yell, disappointment wafted off Brock like the stench of rotting sturgeon entrails as he turned to find Cerb still licking the container. "Cerb, I told you to protect Spenser."

Still angry with the guys, without realizing he was about to step into shit by making uninformed assumptions, Sonny said, "Maybe Cerb should retire. He didn't alert you to Spenser missing at the base and now … he just lets someone come in and steal the kid while he sits there scoffing down food."

"RETIRE, SONNY? NO FUCKING WAY!" Brock roared in response to Sonny's scurrilous statement.

Jason barked, "Enough! We don't have time for this shit." He gave both Sonny and Brock pointed glares. "We need to split up and find him."

Reaching the doorway and catching Jason's last statement, Clay entered, swiftly taking stock of his brothers' conditions. They all appeared worse for wear. Into the silence which descended on the room, Clay innocently asked, "Why is Sonny retiring and who do we need to find?"

Five stunned pairs of eyes pinned him. "Whoa! What's going on?" Clay started for his bed, needing to sit after using most of his energy to shuffle back to his room.

"Where the hell did you go?" Jason demanded, taking command as was his right as team lead.

Clay sat on his bed and swung his feet up, grateful for the socks, which warmed his cold feet and kept him from slipping on the slick tile floor. "Simon snuck me to the showers. Nurse Shirley didn't want to let me go. But since my last one was so rudely interrupted. Well, I wanted one."

"Shower? You were in the goddamned shower?" Jason shook his head at the absurdity of losing Spenser twice in showers.

"Oh, and thanks for dinner. I was starving, and I loved the pork sausage with savory mushroom sauce. And the lemon rum cake … splendid. You got me too much, so I shared what I didn't finish with Cerb when I went to shower. Hope it doesn't upset his stomach, but those sad, pleading eyes … I couldn't resist." Clay peered down at Cerb and smiled, not catching the guilt spreading across Brock's and Sonny's faces.

Shifting his gaze back to Jason, Clay asked, "What happened at the base? You all look like shit."

As Brock sunk to the floor by Cerb, reaching out a hand in apology for calling Cerberus a bad dog, his heart on his sleeve, his eyes sought Cerb's but lowered when his dog rebuffed him and leapt onto Spenser's bed. He was batting a thousand, with screwing up. He exhaled shakily and turned his attention back to Jason as he responded to Clay's inquiry.

"What do you recall?" Jason wanted to know if Clay remembered being trapped for a long time before coming clean.

"Not much. I was focused on getting sand out of places … yeah, um, I soaped up, and then the earth shook and a sonic boom. I suspect something exploded. But then you guys were there saving me. Thanks for having my six … especially when you guys were injured too." Clay scanned Jason's face. It looked like the result of a bar fight, but that made no sense. "Sonny, what happened to you? How bad?"

"Ain't nothing but a little piece of shrapnel. Be out of here tomorrow."

Clay grinned at Sonny, glad his injury wasn't serious. "So what blew up?"

Ray sunk into one of the chairs, his head still playing the sambas. "The ammo supply."

"Wow. Sabotage or accident?"

"Uncertain. Mandy is still investigating."

"Anyone else hurt?" Clay watched the flicker of sorrow ghost across their eyes before being hidden behind the shields they all carried to hide their emotional pain. "Guess that is yes. Who?" Clay steeled himself for the answer. The string of sailors he knew who perished was growing too fast.

"Twelve dead … no one we knew personally. All the deceased were from the local Army, but a few of our support received minor cuts or burns," Trent shared.

"And you guys too."

Brock shook his head. "No. My burns are from spilled coffee."

"Someone sucker punched me at a bar," Ray stated, then turned to Jason. "And Jace took out six guys after the moron who wanted to fight sailors hit me."

"Bar brawl?" Clay's eyes shifted to Jason, surprised he had pegged the source of the injuries in the first place.

Jason only nodded, realizing very soon he would have to reveal they screwed up and he hoped it didn't severe Spenser's trust in them.

Turning to Trent, Clay asked, "And you?"

"After Simple Simons knocked Brock down the stairs, he slammed a door into my head. Partly my fault."

Clay chuckled which brought shocked eyes to him as Sonny said, "What's so funny, Sunshine?"

"Makes sense now. Simon said he injured two people today and he made me sit on a shower seat … scared of what might happen to him if a third person was hurt because of him. He didn't tell me it was you two … but, no wonder he was willing to help me. Probably trying to make amends."

Jason exhaled long and hard. "Speaking of amends. I need to share something important with you."

Heaviness cloaked the room as if a storm blew in. Clay's eyes darted around to each one of them, noting self-loathing in their expressions. He stayed silent, wondering what could be so bad as to cause the shame he saw reflected in their eyes.

"We screwed up. After dragging Sonny and another injured man out of the burning mess tent, we," he pointed to himself, Ray, Trent, and Brock, "didn't notice you weren't among us as we set up triage for the many wounded, and secured the perimeter. It wasn't until sometime later, after the most severe casualties were treated that we could go back to Sonny.

"Sonny asked where you were. It is then were realized you were missing. We raced to the showers, and Brock cut you free of the canvas. I'm sorry for failing you. My role is to ensure everyone makes it home safe. I should've noticed you were not there."

"So should I. I'm truly sorry," Ray said.

"Me too. I'll understand if you can't forgive me." Trent's head hung down.

"And me and Cerb. You would've been right beside us ensuring we set up security and prepared for an attack … but you weren't and … shit, I'm screwing up big time." Brock's eyes moved from Clay to his dog. "I even called Cerb a bad dog tonight because you weren't in your bed, and he was on the floor eating our dinner. I owe you both an apology … want to make amends for my stupidity."

Clay sucked in a breath and gradually released it. "So, let me get this straight. The ammo blew up. The mess tent was on fire. There were people dying. You set up triage tending the most seriously injured first … leaving Sonny for last. And Sonny is the one who noticed I wasn't there. And when he did, you all rushed to find me. Right?"

Jason nodded. "Sums it up."

"Well, shit. What are you apologizing for? As far as I'm concerned, you took care of things in the proper order. I know you guys always have my six. I have ample proof of that." He raised his hand and began lifting fingers as he started counting. "One, you disobeyed a general to save my ass when we went to recover the drone. Two, Cerb tracked me in a jungle, and you guys found me buck naked with an arrow in my ass, and Jason killed the bitch who put it there.

"Three, Ray kept me from drowning after we jumped from the biopetrol platform. Four, you kept a huge ass cat from devouring me in that cave. Five, you guys rescued me in Dongola. Six, there's Ecuador … and that isn't the first time you saved me from Carlson … you put my life before grabbing Nazeri.

"Seven, you had my back in Farris Gallery. Eight, Mexico … nuf said on the shit that went down there. Nine, you saved my ass again down under … and Katie's too. Ten, Nepal, um, Tibet actually." Giving up using fingers, having run out, Clay added, "Eleven, Ecuador again … don't want to go there again. Twelve, DRC and RaRa. Thirteen, the Philippines … you found me in the street and kept me alive.

"Do you want me to continue? If so, I have about twenty more times each and every one of you … my brothers … have had my back. There is no reason for you to be saying you're sorry. Absolutely no fucking reason."

Sonny broke the tension as he drawled, "Shit, we should be charging you beer for saving your ass all the time, Sunshine."

Clay chuckled. "You already do. I swear, by now I should be out of firsts with you guys."

A slight smile formed on Trent's face. "Sonny's financing most of the beer with the way he sucks at poker."

"And the wagers he's stupid enough to make with Clay," Ray interjected.

Jason raked a hand through his hair. "So, you haven't lost trust in us over this?"

"Why the hell would I? Unless you deliberately left me … then all bets are off, and I'll switch teams."

"LIKE HELL YOU WILL!" Sonny shouted.

Jason finally smiled. "Think this proves the kid got under Sonny's skin."

"Like a poison ivy rash," Sonny groused.

Clay recalled something Brock said. "Did you truly call Cerb a bad dog?"

"Yeah, and I feel like shit. He's a good boy … the best."

Cerb hopped down and nuzzled his snout under Brock's hand, seeking a scratch behind the ears.

Brock's fingers curled in the soft fur. "Sorry, Cerb."

Lifting his head, Cerb licked Brock's cheek. Apology accepted. He spun around three times and settled himself in Brock's lap, content.

Still a little slow on the uptake, Clay's mind latched onto something else Brock said as he watched Cerb getting petted. "Your dinner? That wasn't for me?"

Trent snorted and laughed. "No worries, kid. I suspect you needed it more than us, seeing as you hadn't eaten in well over a day, and spent numerous hours spewing out your stomach. I'm happy you enjoyed the meal." Putting his medic hat back on, he surveyed the team. "I suggest everyone hit the rack for some sleep. Jace, after you shower, I'll apply more aloe vera on your sunburned back."

Jason took a seat. "Not showering tonight. Sleeping here to keep an eye on Waldo."

Ray scrunched up his brows. "Waldo?"

Jason pointed to Spenser. "We've got a SEAL version of Where's Waldo? in the form of Where's Spenser? ... so not letting the kid out of my sight any time soon."

For a moment Trent wanted to argue, but seeing Jason's jaw set in stone, he realized there would be no changing his stubborn mind. "Okay. Tomorrow then." He pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and went to Spenser's bed. "Get some sleep. See ya tomorrow." He waved at Sonny. "Goes for you too … sleep."

Sonny gave Trent a sloppy salute as he quipped, "Aye, aye, Commander Slumber." He smiled as he added, "Careful of Simon when you exit the door."

Brock rose to join Ray and Trent in leaving. His mind thinking on how to make amends to Cerb. After exchanging goodnights, the three men and one dog left and the three in the room settled in for the remainder of the night, all more than ready for a long snooze.

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Simba Sneaks Off and Gets Strapped**

 _ **Six Days Later – Rota, Spain – Lo Siento Marinero Pub**_

Clay leaned back in his chair, eyeing his teammates who sorely tested his patience in the last several days. They smothered him. Hell, he couldn't even go to take a shit or shower without at least one of them tagging along. Their ever-present presence, although bearable at first had gotten to the point he wanted to shoot them.

He was a grown man, a SEAL, and didn't need babysitting. Yeah, he understood why they kept an eye … more like six sets of eyes on him … they still carried guilt for what happened at the remote base, not that they should, but they did. He wished he could slap some sense into them, but every attempt to sway them to let him out of their sight was met with solid refusal.

So tonight, he wanted to get sloshed … if he drank enough, perhaps he could forget he had five superfluous bodyguards. He slugged down the remainder of his sixth beer and rose. "Gonna get the next round."

"Comin' with ya, Simba." Sonny stood, flicking his toothpick to the opposite side of his mouth.

Clay rolled his eyes and bit back his groan. "I think I can manage to walk alone to the bar, order beers, and walk back without getting 'lost.'" Clay made air quotes with his last word.

Jason took pity on Spenser, yeah, he recognized they had been overbearing and needed to stop before they drove the kid to do something stupid. One reason they all came out tonight to the Sorry Sailor … the kid was going stir-crazy in the barracks. "Go … but stay in sight. Sonny, down boy."

Grumbling, Sonny sat as Clay walked towards the bar. "He goes missing it's on you, Jace."

Ever the voice of reason, Ray said, "We have a straight line of sight on him. What can happen?"

Brock snorted. "Almost anything with Spenser." He toyed with his almost empty bottle, wishing Cerb could've come with them, but understanding the bar wouldn't allow him inside. He smiled, thinking on all the ways he pampered the pup to make up to him.

Though he couldn't wash Cerb himself due to the burn on his hand, the day Spenser and Sonny were released, he arranged for a doggie spa day. Sonny happily helped, standing with his weight on one leg, he soaped up Cerb and bathed him. After Cerb was dried, Brock spent an extra-long time grooming him. The hair missile lay on the padded table blissfully enjoying every stroke of the brush … which was much like a massage.

And somewhere, Brock was not quite sure, Sonny procured several stegosaurus-sized bones for Cerb to gnaw on and steak served on a silver platter. For the past six days, Cerb received the royal treatment from all of them, including Clay. The kid played fetch with Cerb for several hours each day. Though part of Brock believed that was because Spenser was sulking at not being allowed to leave the barracks and that is how he passed the time.

Jason's phone buzzed, and he peered down at the caller and answered, "Tell me you have news, Mandy." He listened as the rest of the guys turned their attention to him. They all were tired of sitting around … though in truth they had needed the rest to recover from their various injuries … and hoped Mandy would have a target for them soon.

Clay ordered the beer and refused to turn around, taking a moment to just breathe, glad Jason finally cut the strings. He knew without a doubt at least two sets of eyes would be on him, watching his every move, but this was better than nothing.

"Hello, sailor," a sultry voice said in his ear.

Shifting his gaze to the left, Clay smiled at the beautiful senorita. Her raven hair fell to her mid back in soft waves. She had brown … almost black eyes that drew him in, and her ruby red lips so close to his face begged to be savored. "Hello."

"You here alone?" Her hand snaked down his back, settling on his ass, and she squeezed.

Oh, Spenser possessed no doubt about the woman's intentions … pheromones wafted off her leaving no question she was trolling for a sexual encounter. "Sort of, I'm Clay, … and you are?"

"Solana. We could keep each other company … at least for a little while." She gave him another squeeze before moving her hand to his front and brushing against his bulge.

No choir boy and not dating anyone steadily or exclusively, the idea of casual sex with a willing and gorgeous woman tempted him. He would need to give his guards the slip because well, what he did with his off time didn't concern them, and he didn't want to put up with the second-degree or the razzing if he went over to the table and told him he was leaving with Solana and not to wait up for him.

So Clay did what Jason feared he might do … _something stupid._ He paid the barkeep and told him to deliver the beers, took one glance back, noting they were all engrossed in whatever Jason was saying, slipped his hand in Solana's and snuck out of the Sorry Sailor. Outside, she smiled and tugged him to the right, saying she only lived around the corner.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Solana's Place**_

No sooner had they entered did clothing start to strip off. She pulled his shirt up and off, tossing it to the side. His lips sought hers as his hand roamed over her breast. This would not be a soft and gentle coupling … they were both aroused and wanted to be skin-to-skin. Having been celibate for far too long and six beers in him tonight, Clay desired to shed his pants and boxers faster than he could manage.

Before long, they were stark naked on her bed, with Clay suckling her breast as his fingers sought the nub between her thighs. She moaned, squealed even as he slipped in. No words were needed as his lips reclaimed her plump sensual lips. She wrapped her legs around him, drawing him to her, and Clay groaned as his sword drove home.

Solana's fingers raked down Clay's back as she screamed for him to go faster and harder. So focused on his and her pleasure, Clay didn't feel his skin being sliced open with her cat-like nails. With embarrassing speed, he reached his climax, and his sweaty body collapsed on Solana as he shuddered several times with satisfying aftershocks.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Lo Siento Marinero Pub**_

Brock sighed when Jason informed them Mandy confirmed for certain it the ammo supply depot had been sabotaged and she might have a lead on the group responsible. She called to give them a heads up, so they didn't get shitfaced because they needed to be in a briefing at six in the morning.

Finishing off his beer, Brock shifted his gaze to the bar. He spotted a barmaid carrying a tray to their table. He stood, and his head swiveled around so fast, scanning the entire bar. "WHERE'S SPENSER?" erupted when Brock didn't find a single blond head in the place.

"Oh, shit!" Trent jerked to his feet.

Sonny glared at Ray. "You just had to jinx us with your what could happen … we got a straight line of sight shit." Shifting to Jason, he added, "And you … you let him go alone."

Jason sighed. "I was afraid the kid would do something stupid. Shit."

Sonny's concern skyrocketing, anything, absolutely anything could befall the kid in Spain … he had the worst damned-luck and was a friggin trouble magnet. "And you still let him go—"

Brock barked, interrupting Sonny, "Stop … that isn't gonna find him. He couldn't have gone far."

"I swear I'm gonna implant a tracker on him," Sawyer groused.

"I'll hold him down," Sonny agreed. "So much for trusting the little shit. Now we're gonna spend the rest of the night searching for him."

Arriving at the table, the senorita smiled. "Beers have been paid for. The blond, he asked they be delivered."

"Did you see where he went?" Jason asked.

"Si, senor. Solana … she like blonds and blue eyes. He left with her."

"How long ago?" Ray inquired as Sonny charged like a bull for the exit with Sawyer, Hayes, and Reynolds right behind him. If looks could kill, Spenser would be dead if he didn't find the kid first.

"Not long … she no live too far … only down the block and the corner."

Ray got the address from her and hurried out. He met the other four outside, and Sonny was raging as expected when he couldn't find Spenser on the street.

"I'm gonna string him up by the short hairs … Simba knows he wasn't supposed to leave. Jace said to stay in sight … he disobeyed an order." Sonny ranted, out of worry more than true anger … though there was a bit of annoyance at the base.

"I know where he is. Follow me," Ray interjected.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Solana's Place**_

Shifting off Solana, Clay rolled to his side and smiled as he caressed the senorita's cheek peering into her sultry eyes. He leaned in to kiss her lips when the door slammed open. His head whipped to the entry, when someone bellowed, "FOUND SPENSER!"

Clay barely had time to pull a sheet over Solana, as he registered the voice as one seriously pissed off Sonny. Buck-assed naked as the day he was born, Clay gaped and stared as his brothers barged into the small studio apartment.

He scrambled to grab his shirt to cover himself and ended up tangling his legs in the sheet and landing on the floor in a heap, still uncovered. Forgetting about his state of undress, Clay shouted at them, "GET THE FUCK OUT!"

Jason stalked forward, his expression severe and unrelenting as he pinned Spenser with a heated glare. "I told you to stay in sight. And you go and sneak off with some skanky froghog."

"What I do on MY time is MY own business." Clay fought hard not to strike out at Jason as he balled his fist upon rising.

Ray gathered the kid's clothes, everything except his boxers, and handed the pants to Jason.

"GET DRESSED!" Jason threw Clay's jeans at him.

Clay let his jeans fall to the floor. "I'm staying!"

"I said dress," came out in a dangerously low growl.

"I'm still not cleared for duty." Clay retorted, though the tone used by Jason told Clay he played with fire by arguing when he shouldn't, and he would pay a steep price, but damn he was sick and tired of being treated like a child. He opened his mouth to say more but stopped at Jason's next words.

"Brock, give me your spare strap … seems our spoiled pup needs a shorter tether."

His eyes wide, Brock handed over the nylon leash he always carried, regardless of if Cerb was with him. He used it on several occasions to harness stray dogs and take them to no-kill adoption shelters.

"LIKE HELL YOU'RE PUTTING A STRAP ON ME!" Clay backed up, searching for a way to escape, but there was no getting around five spitting-mad brothers. Sonny, Trent, Brock, and even Ray descended on him, and try as he might they overpowered him. They tugged on his pants, sans underwear, dragged the shirt over his head, and sat on him as Jason secured the lead to his belt loops.

Once released, and hauled to a standing position, still barefooted, Jason jerked on the leash as Sonny shoved him from behind. Speechless, stunned, and shocked, they would do this to him, Clay glanced at Solana and found her snickering. _Great, fucking great … my humiliation is a source of amusement to her._

Clay shuffled forward, though he didn't go willingly as Jason pulled him out of Solana's place. He caught Ray apologizing to Solana, as he entered the hallway and noted her neighbors peeking out of their doors. The whole situation caused him to seethe. They might be his brothers, but they were going to pay for making a spectacle of him.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Station Entry**_

The Spanish sentries at the entrance to the naval station sniggered when they spotted a man being dragged towards the base on a leash. After checking their IDs, one ventured to ask, "Why is he on a lead?"

"We don't want to be searchin' for a lost pup again," Sonny answered.

Snickering, the sentry asked, "What breed is he?"

"Well, with his golden, curly hair, we think a Goldendoodle, but we're not quite sure," Brock said, having gotten over his shock of Jason leashing Clay and going with the flow. The kid deserved this for making them worry again.

"Nah, more like a Shar-pei."

"Nope isn't wrinkly enough. I'd say a Cocker Spaniel."

Clay growled and yanked on the strap wanting to leave before he lost all self-control and started swinging at anyone in his way … brothers included.

"Do you need to muzzle him?" the guard joked as he and his buddies laughed.

"Don't get too close, he's a lethal working dog, and you're pissing him off." Jason tugged Clay forward. It was one thing for his men to tease Spenser, but he wouldn't allow strangers to do the same.

* * *

 _ **Next Morning – Rota, Spain – Naval Station Briefing Room**_

Blackburn stared, not believing his eyes as Jason entered followed by a sullen Spenser … on a leash. He watched as Jason stopped at a chair, pointed and said, "Sit. Stay," and Spenser sat.

His surprise increased as each one of others pointed at Spenser and repeated the stay command. The look Spenser gave each sent a shiver down Eric's spine. _The kid might slaughter them all while they sleep. Oh, God, I don't want to know what happened to cause Jason to lose his friggin' mind._

Mandy entered and smiled at the guys, not noticing the tension in the room, nor the solid strap tied around Spenser's midsection and the opposite end clutched in Jason's fist.

Though Clay wanted to continue his revenge plotting, he shifted his attention to Ms. Ellis … because he was a top tier SEAL first and foremost, whether his brothers regarded him as one or not. Perhaps the best revenge would be to show them just who they were treating like an untrained puppy.

A snout nuzzled his leg, and Clay moved a hand to pet Cerb … his only friend at the moment. He got some satisfaction last night when Cerb slighted Brock and chose to curl up on his bed instead. He snuck Cerb a piece of his smoked ham at breakfast to say thanks for the solidarity.

Clay tuned in as Ellis said, "… and the group who is responsible for the sabotage has ties to the International Islam Brotherhood. Their activities were curtailed after Isaksson's arrest netted numerous high-level people. However, the void in leadership was filled with more radicalized men. The IIB is now resorting to more traditional forms of terrorism as they try to destabilize areas so they can swoop in and take control of government positions in the unrest they create."

"We've identified the sect tasked with the hit on the base. The IIB sect is run by Suwailim el-Samad." Mandy clicked the remote and brought up the man's photo. "We need to bring him in alive because he is not the big fish … but with interrogation, he will give me the details on the new leaders."

She changed the image to a reddish, three-story building in what looked like a market area. "You will be doing a nighttime snatch and grab in Samara."

"That's in Western Sahara," Clay stated.

"Yes. The northern part. This building we have confirmed is the headquarters for el-Samad, and he is on site. Unfortunately, we have no intel on the interior so you'll be going in blind."

"How many tangos we will encounter?" Jason released his grip on the strap as he leaned forward, intent on learning everything necessary to ensure they successfully executed their mission, and all his men came back alive.

After a lengthy discussion where all members contributed equally to the plan, Blackburn said, "Wheels up at sixteen hundred. Grab some sleep and something to eat."

Clay rose to go shower … the scratches Solana left on his back were itching something awful. Trent had cleaned them last night … lecturing him on all the types of bacteria under human fingernails. He had tuned him out, still steamed about the way they dragged him back to the barracks and his humiliation in front of the sentries.

A tug on his strap halted him. He turned icy eyes on Sawyer.

"Where you going, Spenser?"

"To shower."

"Okay, I'm coming." Trent rose and fisted the leash. "I can reexamine those scratches afterward."

"Be a good boy, or ya gonna end up in the kennel," Sonny called out and then snickered.

Cerb growled at Sonny. _Keep teasing my boy, and I'm gonna pee in your boots._ He turned and trotted after his boy.

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Unleashed Spenser Saves the Day**

 _ **Bravo Plane In Flight**_

"He sulking." Jason shifted in his seat as he peered up at Clay who sat all by himself at the front of the plane … his back turned to everyone.

"Do you blame him, Jace? We humiliated him." Ray was regretting his part in last night's snatch and grab of Spenser from Solana's place and continuing the punishment of sorts by leashing him today until the aircraft was wheels up. He heard the sniggers from the support team … especially the reverse named Spencer, with a C, Clayton. If he had his druthers, that particular support member would be gone.

"Spenser disobeyed an order, can't let him think he can get away with that. Spare the strap, spoil the SEAL." Jason turned to Ray as he spoke.

"You didn't really just say that. Clay's not some spoiled child. He had a right to be ticked off with all our smothering. None of us would've put up with it as long as he did. And you … you expected him to do something stupid. Why didn't you head it off before it happened?" Ray eyed Jason.

Jason's gaze shifted away from the uncomfortable glare to the rear of the plane, catching bits and pieces of Clayton mocking Bravo Six. He let out a deep sigh. "Maybe shouldn't have kept him on the lead all the way to the plane."

"No, maybe about it. You better make sure the kid's head is on straight … because if he isn't thinking clearly and things go south … well, you know as well as me it can be bad, brother."

Jason rose, wishing the mission was completed so this conversation could take place with a few beers in both of them.

Sitting as far away from everyone as he could manage, earbuds in place, music blaring to drown out any of the jokes being told at his expense, Clay did his best to reassess the entire situation. He looked at it from several perspectives … and came to a straightforward conclusion.

The hand on his shoulder caused Clay to startle and turn to find out who invaded his self-imposed isolation. He almost groaned as Jason sat on the crate beside him. He pulled out his earbuds and turned off his music as he studied Jason's face.

Before his Master Chief could speak, Clay said, "Look, I screwed up not telling you I was leaving and sneaking out like a teenager. Then again in refusing to go back with you all and arguing with you. I thought about how I just went with Solana.

"Hell, I didn't know her … she could've been anyone … another Arcilla. I could be dead filled with arrows in my back … instead of scratch marks. I worried you guys … and I shouldn't have behaved like that doesn't matter. It does. If the tables were turned … I might've done what you guys did. With one major exception."

Jason nodded, surprised by Spenser's admission. "What would you have done differently?"

Clay glanced behind him before returning his gaze to Jason. "Never would've humiliated any of my brothers in front of the support team. What's between us six … stays between us." Clay exhaled heavily.

"Yeah, took it too far. I can go shut them up if you want."

"No. It'll die down … someday."

"Is your mind in the game? If not … I need you to sit this one out for everyone's safety."

"I'm good."

"Sure?"

"Yeah. Sorry for being a pain in the ass." Clay released a long breath.

Jason chuckled and patted Clay's shoulder. "At least you are aware you are one … more than Sonny will admit to being. And actually, it is one of the reasons you fit in so well with Bravo. Your team leader is a pain in the ass too … at least according to Ray."

"If the shoe fits …" Clay chuckled.

"We good?" Jason's words came with an outstretched hand.

Expecting a handshake, Clay gripped Jason's hand, but found himself pulled to his feet and into short but powerful hug along with Jason whispering, "Sorry kid, just don't pull that shit again … I'm getting too old and might suffer a heart attack."

Jason released Clay with two light slaps on his back, stepped back, and waited for the kid's response.

"We're good." Clay remained standing as Jason strolled away, and a strange thought crossed his mind. _So that is what it is like to have a dad who cares about me._ He shook his head, dislodging the fanciful notion, and replaced dad with older brother. But the little boy who lived in the inner recess of his mind and craved a caring father snatched the word and held it fast.

* * *

 _ **Samara, Western Sahara – Observation Location**_

Bravo moved with stealth under cover of darkness to the location from which they would recon the target building. With no details on the interior or solid numbers on the number of tangos, Jason decided it would be prudent for his team to observe tonight and tomorrow before executing the snatch and grab.

Luckily, Mandy's contact identified an abandoned store across the street and to the south of el-Samad's headquarters. Entering the ground level, they efficiently cleared the area then Jason ordered, "Three, Four, set the sneak cams then maintain guard on this floor. Five, Six, clear the third floor and set up overwatch. Two and I will clear the second level and set up the surveillance equipment."

The men moved out to comply, four heading up the narrow stairs at the back of the store to what used to be the living quarters of the former owners. Jason and Ray broke off from Clay, Brock, and Cerb to clear their floor.

Jason chose the pairings carefully tonight. Clay and Sonny were still at odds because Quinn rode Spenser a little too hard about leaving the bar. Jason wasn't kidding when he told Clay that Sonny could be a pain, and in this case, the Texan's concern made him overbearing. Something Jason never imagined would happen when he told his number three to take care of the rookie on their first deployment.

Sending Clay with Brock made sense because Cerb had been shunning Brock in preference of Spenser which hit Reynolds hard. On the flight, it was Brock who was the first besides him to go check in with the Poster Boy and make amends. He overheard Clay asking why Brock carried an extra leash, and the kid smiled as Brock explained his rescue efforts. So yeah, that pairing was best for tonight.

"Second floor clear," Jason reported. He kept guard as Ray started pulling out the recon scopes, in case Five and Six encountered any unexpected occupants.

Clay and Brock entered the last room of the third level, and Cerb pulled on his lead … heading for a closet … alerting them. With hand signals, the two communicated. Brock reached out a hand to grasp the knob while Clay positioned himself to deal with whoever was inside. Cerb stood at the ready to attack if given the command.

After silently mouthing a countdown, "Three, Two, One," Brock yanked open the door.

Cerb surged forward with a bark. Something small flew out with a screech. Cerb barked again and lunged towards Clay intending on protecting his boy. Unfortunately, the Siamese cat used Clay's legs as an escape route, clawing its way up his body to his head and then leaping to the top of a tall empty shelving unit.

In the split second it took for them to realize it was only a cat, Brock pulled Cerb back, but that didn't save Spenser from a plethora of scratches on his legs, arms and a few on his neck, cheek, and the crown of his head. Clay whirled away muttering, "Damned cats … large or small they always attack me."

Brock reported in, "Third floor clear … except for one extremely scared and hacked-off cat."

"Copy. Set up overwatch and settle in," Jason instructed.

Clay glared at the feline, before striding out of the room to the front of the building to maintain watch at one of the windows. Brock followed him tugging Cerb who still wanted to take a chunk out of the cat. He closed the door to prevent the angry mouser from antagonizing Cerb further.

Entering the room Brock moved close to Clay, wanting to check on him but not appear overbearing … they had done enough hovering with unintended disastrous results. He had gone to Clay in the plane after the sanctimonious support member, Spencer Clayton, wouldn't shut his mouth and kept spewing one stupid joke after another. He either went to Clay and tried to repair their relationship or strangled Spencer with a C. Righting things with his subdued brother took precedence.

Keeping his tone light, Brock asked, "You alright?"

"Yeah, only a couple of little scratches. Nothing serious. I'm fine. I'll take watch. You rack out first." Clay wiped the drip of blood from the stinging cut near his hairline." He promptly forgot about the minor scratches and began scanning the target building and the street for movements.

Brock let the issue lie like a sleeping dog. He should remind Spenser to clean the cuts with an antiseptic wipe, something Trent would do but decided it wasn't worth the potential strain it might cause on their renewed sense of ease. He settled on the floor near Cerb to grab a few hours of shut-eye, knowing Spenser would wake him in a few hours to switch off … and Cerb would alert him before he would allow the kid disappear again.

* * *

 _ **Next Day – Samara, Western Sahara – Target Location**_

"Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast. Fast is lethal," Jason said as they left their observation location and slipped into the shadows. Once again Bravo stealthily moved through the night. Their surveillance over the past twenty-four hours netted them the results they needed to make a workable plan. They faced no more than twelve tangos and re-confirmed the presence of el-Samad.

Working as a well-oil machine, all gears turning in together, Bravo entered the headquarters. The only unknowns now were the layout of the interior and exact location of their HVT. They encountered no one on the street level and moved to the only stairs to ascend to the second. On that floor, they split off with Sonny, Ray, and Trent tasked with searching that level, while Clay, Jason, Brock, and Cerb continued up the steps to the third floor.

Moments after attaining the top floor, a scream erupted from a man surprised by Sawyer in the john, when he swung the door open. Alerted, the rest of the household roused, gathered arms, and the quiet night ended with sounds of gunfire.

On point, Clay swacked four tangos as they came out of their rooms firing at them. Swiftly they moved down the hall, clearing as they eliminated the remaining two who came at them. As they reached the last room, Ray reported, "Second floor clear. No joy on HVT."

"Copy," Jason replied as the three men and dog prepared to enter, Brock unhooking the hair missile's strap from his waist, ready to let him subdue el-Samad.

Entering, they found the room empty and what appeared to be an escape ladder leading to the roof. Closest, Clay started to scurry up the wooden rungs. Jason began to follow, but the rotted rungs snapped under his weight, sending him to the ground. Clay poked his head out and scanned the rooftop, "He's squirting." Hauling himself up, Clay sprinted in the same direction as he said, "Going south … shit, he just vaulted to the next building. Pursuing."

Frustrated he couldn't join Spenser on the roof, Jason pivoted and rushed down the steps as he called out orders for the rest to follow on the street. Clay maintained contact with them, supplying the direction el-Samad went. The man turned out to be speedy and possibly a parkour enthusiast as he leapt from building to building, using the infrastructure to his advantage, trying to slip his tail.

Clay didn't give up and gained on his quarry. Sweat-drenched, glad to be wearing gloves, Clay pushed off the latest structure and secured a hold on the rope, swinging to the next. His feet barely held purchase on the edge of the roof as he swayed backward, but compensated, regained his balance, and raced after el-Samad.

When el-Samad soared across a significant gap, Spenser swallowed his good sense and sped up, hoping like hell he would make it across the span, not come up short and slam into the dirt three stories down. His eyes never left his target … determined to not let the man responsible for killing twelve soldiers and injuring several more slip from their grasp. If Mandy didn't need to interrogate him, Clay would be happy to shoot the bastard to end this impromptu obstacle course.

Due to the momentum of his landing, Clay did a shoulder roll, coming to his feet in one smooth motion, and smiled when el-Samad paused to check behind him. The look of stunned disbelief on the man's face, when his pursuer successfully made the leap, was worth the risk. But the shock on el-Samad's face when Spenser tackled him, was priceless.

They went down in a tangle of arms and legs, and although el-Samad squirmed, he didn't possess the stamina or strength to get out of Spenser's hold. Winded, Clay rested a knee in the small of el-Samad's back as he zip-tied the man's wrists behind his back. When he finished, Clay swiped at the sweat running into his eyes and keyed his comms. "Jackpot. HVT alive and secured." He went on to provide his location and waited for his brothers to arrive.

* * *

 _ **Bravo Plane**_

Mandy grinned as the hooded figure was led up the ramp by Spenser with Jason right behind him. "You got him?"

"The kid did. Spenser unleased is a force to be reckoned with. If not for his Spartan-like determination, speed, and agility, el-Samad would've been long gone." Jason slapped Clay on the shoulder as the subject of his compliment steered their HVT inside. Though he stopped next to Mandy when she spoke.

"What happened?" Mandy inquired.

"Well, seems we got us a Spiderman on Bravo Team," Sonny drawled as he stopped on the ramp. "Should've seen Spenser swinging on a rope between buildings. And his last soaring leap … I swear if he slipped and fell, I was gonna slay Spidey myself."

Mandy's eyes scrunched. "What?"

Sonny moved forward, leaving it to Jason to explain what they saw. He needed a beer … or two … or six. He bit his tongue on the ride back, but underneath he was seething again at the risks the kid took. He witnessed almost every jump, leap, swing, and near fall as Spenser followed the HVT across the structures.

As Sonny dropped his gear bag in the center of the aircraft, he caught laughter behind him. The recognizable smart-ass voice spurred his aggravation to new heights. He spun on his heel and shoved Spencer with a C into the side of the plane as he shouted, "SHUT THE FUCK UP, SHITHEAD."

Self-righteous and not one to back down, Spencer glared at the surly Texan, as he sneered, "What? I'm only saying what everyone already knows. Clay is the biggest fucking screw-up I've ever seen. He was bottom fived for a reason and doesn't deserve to be here. Hell, he must've fucked up royally since you guys led him in on a strap. Can't believe he was allowed to go on the mission. He's gonna get one of you killed … maybe even shoot you in the back if you're not careful."

"WHAT HAPPENS WITHIN BRAVO IS NONE OF YOUR DAMN BUSINESS. SHUT YOUR SMARMY MOUTH OR I'LL STUFF YOUR TEETH DOWN YOUR THROAT."

Spencer Clayton snorted. "LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY."

The strike which decked Spencer came so fast, it left Sonny slack-jawed as the sailor slumped in a heap on the metal grating. He shifted his eyes and started snickering as Sawyer shook out his hand. "Damn, Trent, why'd ya do that?"

"He had it coming. No one, and I mean no one, slanders Six and gets away unscathed."

"No, I what I meant is … you spoiled my fun. I wanted to slug the shitiot. The slack-witted sperm bag deserved a set-down."

Trent flexed his stinging hand. "Think I might've busted a knuckle … worth it though."

Blackburn sighed. He was gonna have to put a stop to this before someone ended up seriously injured. Tensions were running too high, especially if their medic sucker-punched a smart-mouthed support member. He released another strangled sigh and strode forward to deal with this latest stress-filled situation.

Up front, having secured the HVT, Clay overheard the shouting match between Quinn and Clayton. He turned in time to witness Sawyer smash a sledgehammer fist into the sanctimonious sailor's jaw. Clay shook his head and sank onto a seat as Blackburn strode to the rear.

Ray sat next to Clay. "Sorry, brother. He wouldn't be talking shit if I spoke up sooner to Jason and put a stop to the whole leash thing."

"Trent's not gonna get in trouble is he?"

"No. Knowing Blackburn he will solve the issue without serious repercussions. Likely only a slap on the wrist." Ray noticed the scratches on Clay's face and neck. "You get those chasing el-Samad?"

"Get what?"

"The cuts on your neck, forehead, and cheek."

"No … a scared Siamese cat gave them to me. No big deal." Clay slumped in his seat. "I could sleep for a full day."

Ray chuckled. "Right there with you. We'll be on the way back to Spain soon. You can hang a hammock and rack out." Another chuckle emitted as he teased, "Or just shoot a string of webbing and hang from the ceiling, Spiderman."

Clay groaned. "Sonny gave me another nickname. When will it stop?"

Ray patted Clay's thigh. "Brother, nicknames are a sign of endearment. Means Sonny cares. Suspect it won't ever stop, cause once you get under Sonny's skin, there is no getting out."

A smile and laugh burst forth as Clay said, "A life sentence then?"

"Exactly."

"I guess I can live with that." Clay turned to peer at his obnoxious big brother who he wouldn't trade for the world, as Sonny spoke with Blackburn, Jason, and Trent.

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Up Shit Creek Without A Paddle**

 _ **Seven Days Later – Rota, Spain – Naval Station – Bravo Barracks**_

Seven sweaty, sandy, and weary SEALs, Cerb included, shuffled into the barracks assigned to Bravo for a much-needed shower, sleep, and food … in that specific order. While not a typical SEAL location, the naval station in Rota became their base of operation while they executed a series of snatch and grabs all over Northern Africa. They had been in a different country every night including Sulima, Sierra Leonne; Soudj, Senegal; Sangrave, Mauritania; Sirte, Libya; Sandare, Mali. And this morning they were returning from Silet, Algeria.

The first man they grab, el-Samad sang like a songbird once Mandy began interrogating him. Suwailim el-Samad, an educated man, attended university in the United States and had been recruited by his sociology professor to join the IIB. He became disillusioned with their efforts with the change in leadership, didn't like the more radical approach, didn't believe setting off bombs to be a civilized way to affect change, and so readily shared names and locations of various sects.

Last night's raid, netted them Sidqi al-Shakoor, a higher-level IIB commander. With any luck, al-Shakoor would provide key details which would be the undoing of the entire IIB network. But unlike el-Samad, al-Shakoor was a die-hard believer in the current strategy, and it would take time for them to glean useable information from the man.

Outside his shower stall, Clay stripped off his sand-filled, stinking clothing and stepped into the welcome warm water. In the last three days, he had not slept much … like everyone else … and he was beyond fatigued. All he wanted was to rinse off the layer of sand, crawl into his bunk, and sleep. His body ached, along with his head. He remained hotter than usual, and his throat was a little irritated from breathing in sand during the last mission.

After soaping up, and running his hand over his upper thigh, he noticed it seemed a tad swollen. Bending over, he examined his leg and found several reddened areas with little crusty blisters. He chalked it up to all the chafing of the sand. His overwatch perch had been the top of a dune nearest to their exfil point, and he had been relegated to staying put and protecting his brothers as they snagged al-Shakoor … his excessive tiredness not unnoticed by Jason or Trent … but then again, they were all exhausted.

Clay rinsed, and rested his forehead on the side, allowing water to cascade down his still-healing back. The score-marks Solana left still itched although they had scabbed over. Trent slapped his hand each time he tried to scratch them, reminding him of the bacteria he could introduce.

Sonny had come through for him in the form of a backscratcher which Trent approved of him using if absolutely necessary. He and his obnoxious older brothers, yes plural, had come to a simple understanding and made amends with one another. Though, not entirely happy with the deal, he promised while in a foreign country and during off time to alert them of his plans, and in exchange, they would stop smothering him.

Shutting off the water, Clay reached for his towel and used it to rub his itching back. After drying and pulling on clean boxers, Clay shuffled out of the bathroom area into the eight-bed room. He headed straight for his bunk and plopped face first into his pillow, not bothering to pull the sheet or blanket over him because he was still hot. He dropped into sleep within seconds, oblivious to the others around him.

Trent exited the shower area, and on his way to his own bed, he stopped and viewed Spenser's back. He let out a chuckle as he studied the fingernail tracks.

"Whatcha chucklin' about?" Sonny asked as he steered himself to his cot, ready as all of them for some well-deserved sleep in a non-swinging bed. His hammock was comfortable, but for the last seven days, that is the only place they slept. They would return, restock, strategize on the next location, saddle up, and fly to their destination, then do the snatch mission.

Trent sunk onto his bed after pulling the sheets back. "Just thinking Spenser is lucky those scratches don't leave scars. Can't imagine when he eventually finds a steady girl again, she would appreciate another woman's marks on her man."

"True." Sonny yawned and peered longingly at his mattress, but his stomach rumbled, and he decided to grab something to eat before sacking out. "Gonna head over to the cantina, you want anything?"

"Nope. Only sleep … food later." Trent laid down and settled in, tugging the lightweight sheet over his body as the AC turned on, sending a cool blast of air over his body.

Brock, Cerb, who had joined Brock in the shower for a rinsing, Jason, and Ray sauntered in, each obtaining their beds as Sonny offered to bring them something back. All declined, preferring slumber to satisfying their hunger. Within minutes the room was silent except for light snoring coming from several of the exhausted occupants.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Station – Cantina**_

Sonny smiled as he spied the short line … a quick bite to eat, and bed sounded like a super plan. He loaded up on sausages, scrambled eggs with spinach and salsa, fresh strawberries, and two slices of sourdough toast slathered with butter and sprinkled with cinnamon. He made his way to a table on the south side, away from the majority of people, needing a little solitude … not up to carrying on a conversation with anyone.

He dug into his breakfast with gusto, not paying attention to those around him. Snippets of words drifted to his ears, and when he heard the name Spenser combined with laughter, he swiveled his head, ready to defend his little brother … still feeling like shit for shaming Clay in front of the support team.

His grandninny would surely twist his ear and set him in the corner for a long spell for pulling a stunt like that … she wouldn't be impressed. And neither would Lisa if she got wind of the way they treated Spenser. Davis had a soft spot for the kid, as they all did, and she would make them all pay for their shenanigans. Though she would also blister Clay's ear for going off with a strange woman in a foreign country … so they all decided not to tell Davis any of this.

Sonny found Rob and several of the support members sitting at the table behind them. He smiled when he realized the Spenser they were speaking about was Spencer Clayton, not Clay Spenser. He returned to his meal as he listened to them joking about how the guy was a one-hit wonder. One slug from Trent and he was down for the count, and the same thing happened with Rob several months back.

Learning Spencer called Clay the Curse of Bravo had set the entire team off. It was during Clay's rehab, right after Swanny committed suicide. Everyone was in a seriously fucked-up headspace, and they all wanted to beat the shit out of Spencer Clayton. And although Blackburn sought to transfer the shit for brains with a snarky mouth, the asswipe made such a stink with Commander Shaw that in order to save Rob's position as support team leader, Blackburn had to back off from the transfer.

It appeared the support team still didn't care for Spencer's smarmy mouth. And no one was surprised Trent didn't get in trouble for striking Spencer … Commander Shaw was no longer in the picture or held sway over who was or was not on Bravo. In fact, Spencer was the one to receive the proverbial slap on the wrist for provoking the action with his spurious remarks about Bravo Six.

Spencer had been singled-out and on the receiving end of a spontaneous and severe lecture from Blackburn about his role on the support team. Quinn could still hear Balckburn's stern rebuke as he scolded the shitiot. Their lieutenant commander reiterated in many ways how easy and fast he could transfer Spencer if he didn't learn to keep his sharp tongue silent, refrain from spewing spiteful comments, and stop his sophomoric and scurrilous behavior because anyone who subverted team cohesion would be sent packing from Bravo support.

Blackburn used a baseball metaphor when he told Spencer he had two strikes against him, and if he ever spoke out of turn or caused disruption in the team again, it would be his last strike, and he would be out and gone so fast his head would be spinning. He also remarked that his shitty attitude would be documented in his file and if he struck out, it would likely be the end of his SEAL career because no other team would select him.

As Sonny scooped up the last of his eggs, Rob sat next to him and said, "Thought you would be sleeping already?"

"Stomach insisted on food first."

Rob nodded. "Haven't had a chance to talk to you in the last week, but wanted to let you know something."

Sonny eyed Rob as he munched on his cinnamon toast.

Running a hand through his hair, Rob said, "Spoke with Spencer. Suggested to him he might do better on another support team, and it might be wise to transfer before he ruins his career. He's a damned fine sniper, his only problem is his anti-social behavior and his strange belief he is a better operator than his reverse namesake."

After washing down his meal with water, Sonny asked, "So, he leaving?"

Rob smiled. "Soon. I just signed his request this morning. Still needs to be processed, but he'll only be with us for a few more missions."

"Good to hear." Sonny yawned.

"Look, I'll let you finish your meal in peace … and grab some shut-eye. You guys have been run ragged in the past seven days."

Sonny chuckled. "What we live for … bringing down the bad guys and keepin' the world safer."

As Rob stood to return to his table, Sonny snagged a sausage and rose with his empty tray … his hunger satiated, he now craved a long siesta. He sauntered out with a smile … the shitiot wouldn't be around much longer, and that was worth celebrating with a few beers tonight.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Station – Bravo Barracks**_

Sonny had just settled in for a long summer's nap, his eyes only barely shutting when a door slammed open, and Blackburn's loud voice filled the room.

"Sorry boys, need to wake you." Eric regretted having to do this, his men needed a solid seven hours of undisturbed sleep, but they would be getting only the little bit they achieved up until this point.

Jason rolled over and blinked his eyes. "What?"

The rest of them moved like sloths as they shifted to seated positions.

"We have one chance to snag the person above al-Shakoor. We're wheels up in thirty minutes. Support has stowed your gear, get dressed and you'll be briefed on the plane."

Clay stifled a groan as he sluggishly rose to dress. He rubbed his stiff neck and found another crusty blister-like sore. _Maybe sandflies … or some other bug bite._ Ignoring his aches and pains, he did his best to dress as swiftly as the others, but came in last, still shoving his feet into his boots as the others minus Sonny started to shuffle out, intending to grab a coffee at least before boarding.

"Simba, you feeling alright?" Sonny asked as he noted Clay's slower than normal movements.

"Yeah, just tired like the rest of you. And the Spanish summer heat is draining too and well, … anyway, yeah I'm fine." Clay tied his laces and stood.

Sonny squinted as he studied the kid. The building was cold by anyone's standards … maybe seventy-six degrees at most with the AC going full blast. He decided to keep a closer eye on Spenser, as he swung his arm over Clay's shoulders and said, "Want some spectacular news."

Clay turned his head towards Sonny. "Blackburn's rousing is only a stupid joke, and we can go back to sleep."

"Nah, even better. Spencer Clayton requested a transfer. He'll be sailing off into the sunset in a short while. Won't have to put up with his shit no more."

"Still think going to sleep would be better … but that is a close second." Clay smiled and shrugged out from under Sonny's arm. He was hot enough without a Texan furnace adding to his discomfort.

Falling in behind Clay as they shambled off to board the aircraft, Sonny couldn't shake the sense something was off with the kid. He did seem to be a little warmer than usual … but that could be anything. A talk with Trent might be in order.

* * *

 _ **Aircraft En Route to Niger**_

Clay's headache grew all through the briefing and planning session. He was glad it was over, and he could hang his hammock to grab a few hours of shut-eye. After he picked a spot in the smaller and more cramped aircraft, he decided he needed some relief, so approached their medic. "Hey, Trent?"

As Trent finished tying his hammock string to the side of the plane, he said, "Yeah?"

"Um, can I get a couple of Excedrin?" Clay shifted from one foot to the other, trying not to scratch his upper thigh which now itched worse than his back had.

Trent peered at Clay, noting again the way the kid squinted. "Headache?" When Clay nodded, he said, "Sure, give me a sec, though. Sonny wanted to speak to me, but we haven't had a chance since leaving. I'll bring them to you when I'm done."

"K." Clay turned and headed for his swinging bed, so ready to sack out. After climbing in, he shut his eyes, and his mind swirled on their upcoming mission. Mandy learned the detail of a meeting when she examined the laptop the guys snagged from al-Shakoor's place when they snatched him last night.

Sabaah el-Sylla, who according to el-Samad, was one of IIB's inner circle, would be in the village of Simir in Niger tonight only. Typically, the man stayed in his secluded and heavily guarded compound in Niamey, the capital of Niger, but with the chaos Bravo wreaked this past week for IIB sects in Northern Africa, el-Sylla called a meeting in what he believed to be a secure and isolated location about fifty miles away.

They now rode in a different plane, one which would land at Diori Hamani International Airport under the guise of a humanitarian mission. However, before the aircraft touched down, Bravo would HALO jump near Simiri. They would hike in, do recon, perform the snatch and grab, then trek about two miles outside the village where support would be waiting for them with indigenous vehicles procured in Niamey. They would drive the hour and a half to the airport, sneak al-Sylla aboard their plane, and be in the air returning to Spain before anyone was the wiser.

A tap on his shoulder had Clay opening his eyes. He found not only Trent but Sonny and Jason too. And Trent didn't only have the analgesics he asked for ... nope, he came with his Spenser medkit. Clay let out a sigh.

"Simba, you're not looking so hot … but you felt sorta warmer than usual." Sonny held the bag for Trent as the medic opened it and withdrew a temporal artery thermometer.

"You feeling sick?" Jason crossed his arms.

"No … got a headache. Asked Trent for meds." Under Jason's glare, Clay sighed again. "Not hiding anything. Learned that lesson long ago when I had the kidney infection. I'm just tired and sore, but aren't we all after the week we've had?"

Trent used the thermometer and read the temp. "Slightly elevated, ninety-nine point six."

"So a low-grade fever. Could the scoring on his back be infected and causing it?" Jason asked.

"No, they're healing fine. Checked his back after his shower." Trent dug for the analgesic and shook out the proper dosage. "Any other symptoms … anything?"

Clay shook his head and then recalled his leg. "My upper thigh is a little red and swollen. I found a couple of crusty blisters … think all the sand that got into my pants rubbed the area raw and caused that, though."

Trent arched his brow as he handed over the meds.

After swallowing the pills with water provided by Jason, he met Trent's gaze and interpreted its meaning. "Oh, come on. I'm not dropping my drawers and letting you prod me here." His eyes flicked to the rear where support was sitting. "I've been humiliated enough in front of them."

"We can do it with you cooperating or the hard way," Jason said.

Clay didn't want either; he wanted sleep. He remembered the other little blister on his neck and pointed to it. "They look like this. I'm sure it is only a bug bite."

Trent switched on his penlight and examined the yellowish blister. He slipped on a glove and palpated around the area. "Sore or tender to the touch?"

"No," Clay answered truthfully. He raked fingers through his mop, pulling his hair off his forehead.

Trent brushed Clay's hair back when he spotted two more at his hairline.

"Our boy is hitting puberty … he's got pimples," Sonny joked to lighten the mood.

"What do you think it is?" Jason ignored Sonny's jest.

"Not sure. Could be bug bites as Clay thinks. Should keep an eye on them … make sure they don't become infected. Take a wait and see approach."

"He good for the mission?"

"I'm just tired, like everyone. Need some sleep, and my headache will be gone."

"I'm asking Trent … so shut it." Jason eyed Clay who snapped his mouth shut.

"Unless anything drastic changes before we jump, I'd say yeah. We've all operated with low fevers and minor infections on occasion." Trent tapped Clay's head. "You tell me if anything changes and if you still have a headache when we wake."

"Yeah, okay. Can I go to sleep now?"

"Finish this first." Jason handed the water bottle back to Spenser. "You'll need to drink more to stay hydrated with a fever."

"Sure." Clay took the bottle and guzzled it down. Happy he didn't have to be subjected to taking off his pants in front of the support team when Trent and Jason strolled off. He glanced at Sonny as he downed the last of the water. "You're not gonna hover, are you? You need sleep too."

Concern still played in Sonny's features as he recalled the first time Clay had been sick … they all thought he boarded the plane drunk and didn't take the time to listen, creating a situation where the kid didn't feel he could tell them the truth. He hoped that was all in the past, but he needed to make sure. "You can be honest with us, Speedy Gonzales. We can catch the HVT if he squirts … even though you're the fastest runner. Missing a mission 'cause your sick is acceptable, and none of us will think less of you."

Clay chuckled. The new nicknames never ended. Thanks to Ray, he understood why Sonny used them. "I am, and I will be. Now, I'm going to sleep and you should too." He shut his eyes and could tell Sonny stayed there from several more moments before walking away. Somehow he had been fortunate to be drafted by Bravo. And though they could be a royal pain in the neck, he had brothers he never imagined he would have … Clay drifted off thanking his lucky stars.

* * *

 _ **Simir, Niger – Various Locations**_

The shit hit the fan shortly after Bravo entered the target building and Jason radioed they found a dry hole. No HVT on site. From his overwatch perch, Clay called out, "Bravo Six to One. You have dozens of tangos amassing on your pos. Shit, they're coming out of multiple buildings. This was a setup. They suckered us in."

Taking up defensive positions, Jason keyed his comms, "Bravo One to Sierra One … move in. We need immediate exfil at the secondary locations."

Rob romped on the gas of the larger van he was driving as he replied, "Roger. On our way. Four mics out. Sierra Seven, you take exfil pos B. Sierra Two hold at the rendezvous pos." Rob hoped he wasn't making a mistake sending Spencer to get Spenser, but the sedan was the fastest of the two remaining vehicles and Bravo Six's secondary exfil location was the furthest distance from here.

"Copy," Spencer Clayton, aka Sierra Seven, drove off in the opposite direction.

"One, I can cover your exfil." Clay aimed, waiting for Jason's response.

"Two mics and then you bug out, Six. We're throwing smoke." Jason grabbed a smoke bomb and prepared to lob it out the window.

"Copy." Clay began taking out tangos, ensuring his brothers' path remained as clear as possible. Two minutes later, as Bravo One through Five were sprinting toward their exfil point, Clay stood, pivoted and headed for the stairs. As he raced down them, he heard shouting outside the building and realized his shooting had given away his sniper position.

Clay scanned and spotted a window on the south side … away from the tangos. He slipped through it right as six insurgents burst into the room and sprayed the area with bullets. His heart sped up at his close call when several whizzed by his head. Keeping low, he made it to a short adobe wall and hopped over.

"Six to One, working on getting to exfil B. My path is blocked by a bunch of unfriendlies. Might be a little late to the party." He skirted several structures, searching for a new path but each time he thought he found a route more tangos showed up. He was up shit creek without a paddle or even a damned canoe.

"Copy … watch your back, Six." Jason halted at the edge of the building close to exfil point A. The kid saved their bacon tonight. Having him in a sniper perch almost a half mile away was the right strategy since they didn't have ISR overhead, although he hated leaving him alone. As the van came into sight, Jason motioned to his men. "Let's get the hell outta Dodge."

* * *

 _ **Simir, Niger – Exfil A**_

Sierra One skidded to a stop in the red gravel as Sierra Three and Four whipped open the rear doors and laid down cover fire. In a haze of bullets coming from both directions, Ray, Sonny, Brock, Cerb, Jason, and finally Trent, who had been bringing up the rear, surged into the back of the utility-sized van. With dozens of insurgents bearing down on their position, they couldn't stay put, so Rob floored it and sped off, putting distance between themselves and certain death, heading for the rendezvous location.

Jason's attention turned to Trent, who knocked into him as he slumped forward unexpectedly. In the crush of the cramped space, Jason gripped him, to help push him upright. Concern spiked when his hand came in contact with something sticky and warm as his medic's head lolled to his chest … unconscious. "Shit, Trent's been hit. Give me a hand."

Ray, Sonny, and Brock went into action, slipping off Trent's pack and gear as Cerb and the support guys squeezed together, trying to make enough room to lie Trent flat as Jason searched for the source of the blood. Everyone's efforts hard to do in a speeding van on the bumpy road … which wasn't truly a road. When the insurgents were well behind them, Jason said, "Rob, stop. Trent's bleeding out to damned fast. I gotta find the bleeder and stop it."

After the vehicle came to a controlled stop, Jason cut away Trent's shirt, and located the wound … or more correctly wounds, shot three times, once in the shoulder above his vest, a through and through in his upper arm, and a slug still in his side below his body armor. He now understood why the significant amount of blood. With assistance from Sonny, Jason applied pressure dressings to stop the flow as Ray started an IV to replenish Trent's volume.

* * *

 _ **Simir, Niger – Exfil B**_

Clay pulled himself over another wall, scaled a structure, sprinted across the roof, leapt across to another abode, dropped down to a wall about as wide as a log and balanced as he traversed the obstacle and continued his mad dash to his exfil point … his actions somewhat reminding him of the BUD/S obstacle course. Though his life never hung in the balance when running on the beach near San Diego.

He came to an abrupt halt, pivoted, and scanned for another alternative when six insurgents appeared around a corner. He was screwed if they looked up or if he couldn't make it to the exfil location. Sweat dripping down his face and drenching his shirt, Clay did the only thing possible to him at this moment, stayed absolutely still and prayed they didn't see him. He slowed his breathing, trying to be as silent as possible.

When they moved off, Clay jump for the roof of the next building, his arms outstretched hoping he had enough force behind him to grasp the edge … he didn't. Clay slid down the rough stone wall and landed with his left hand awkwardly taking the brunt of his weight. A soft hiss escaped as he brought his arm close to his chest, knowing at a minimum, he sprained his wrist.

With no time to even wrap it, Clay surveyed his surroundings, scaling a wall again would be difficult one-handed. He spotted several barrels and wooden crates. He moved to them and dragged one barrel closer to the wall. Picking up a box with his uninjured hand, he winced as a sharp splinter pierced his glove and drove deep into his palm.

 _Shit, I'm batting a thousand tonight._ Though it hurt to use his left fingers, he plucked out the splinter and stacked the sturdy crate on top of the barrel. He managed to climb up, and haul himself up onto the wall, straddling it as he scanned again. He spotted a speeding sedan approaching his exfil position. Now he only had to make it around three more obstacles and across an open span of desert to reach relative safety.

As he slid off onto the other side, the landing vibrated his wrist and sent shooting pains through his forearm. He sprinted, hoping like hell he was fast as Sonny latest nickname for him, Speedy Gonzales. He wasn't scampering after an HVT this time … he was trying to save his own skin. Spenser ignored, as well as he could, the pain in his wrist, holding it tightly pressed to his side to reduce the jarring.

Rounding the last wall, having spotted a gate which didn't require him to climb, but took him much further south than he wanted, ready to pour every ounce of energy he had left in his tank to sprint to his destination, Clay abruptly stopped and gaped. "SHIT!"

* * *

 _ **Simir, Niger – Exfil Rendezvous Location**_

Reaching the third vehicle at the rendezvous pos, Rob slowed and halted. They had lost a bit of time, with their short delay earlier for Jason to treat Trent and he expected the sedan to be here already. As the doors opened, and his men spilled out of the back, Rob called over to Scott, his 2IC, "Any word from Sierra Seven?"

Scott shook his head. "Not yet."

Ray, Brock, and Cerb exited, giving Jason and Sonny more room to work on Trent as Jason pulled out the field blood transfusion kit after Trent's blood pressure dropped. Worried as Sawyer went into shock, they stood at the rear watching as Jason prepared their brother for a transfusion.

Several minutes later a bullet-riddled sedan pulled to a halt behind the van. Sierra Seven slowly exited and started towards Rob. His hand clasped over his left bicep, blood seeping between his fingers.

Ray spotted the support member, noting the blood. His gut seized as he rushed forward, his eyes moving to scan the interior for their kid since he didn't exit the car. Coming to a stop beside Spencer, and failing to see Clay, Ray shoved Sierra Seven, slamming him into the car's front side-panel. A sense of dread filling him, Ray shouted, "WHERE'S SPENSER?"

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Saving Spenser**

 _ **Simir, Niger – Exfil Rendezvous Location**_

Ray's yell combined with Cerb's low throated growling, and Brock's command, "Sit," whipped Jason's and Sonny's heads in their direction. Rob rushed forward, hoping to separate Spencer from Ray before Bravo Two slaughtered the man where he stood.

Scott, Sierra's 2IC, and medic moved in for Trent, knowing without a doubt Hayes would be torn between rendering care to Sawyer and finding what happened to Bravo Six. "Go. I got him." Scott slipped into space already vacated by a red-eyed Texas Longhorn bull on a rampage. He shivered as he thought Sierra Seven might not be making it back alive if Sonny got his hands on him … regardless of the reason the kid wasn't in the car.

Jason stormed over just as Ray pulled out of Rob's grasp and wrapped his hands around Sierra Seven's neck, squeezing as the man failed to answer Ray's question fast enough and Bravo Two ground out his query a third time, "Where's Spenser?"

Sucking in a breath when Perry was pulled from him, Spencer faced nine intimidating men, the remaining four furious members of Bravo, as well as five equally enraged men from his own team. He swallowed hard. "I couldn't get him. A huge force converged on the spot. He was nowhere to be seen … and they sprayed the vehicle with bullets. Got me in the arm."

He sucked in another shaky breath, unwilling to reveal he was scared shitless and bugged out before he should've. Spenser wouldn't survive to tell a different story. "I'd be dead if I didn't leave when I did. Save who is savable … right? Spenser was probably already dead."

"SAVING YOUR ASS AND LEAVING A BROTHER HIGH AND DRY AIN'T WHAT WE DO!" Sonny slammed his fist into Sierra Seven's solar plexus.

Spencer dropped to his knee; the strike so powerful it knocked all the air from his lungs.

"We'll deal with him later," Jason barked. The more time they spent yelling at the shitiot, the longer it would take for them to reach Clay. He keyed his comms, "Bravo One to Six, status."

He was met with expected static because if the kid could've reported he was left behind, he would've … but Jason refused to believe that Spenser was dead. Without another word spoken, Jason, Ray, Sonny, and Brock trotted for the second smaller van. They were going to save their little brother.

Cerb growled once more, wanting to shred Seven's jugular and let him bleed out, but he would get in trouble for something so severe. So, he lifted his leg and pissed on Seven as the spineless man knelt in the dirt before racing to catch up with Brock.

Rob directed his men, "Six, you drive the utility van, take Seven with you. Get Sawyer to the plane. Three, Four, Five, with me, we're going with Bravo." He moved to the driver's seat of the sedan, shaking his head and trying not to lose his cool, though he wanted to string Seven up just as much as the rest of them. Seven sealed his fate as a SEAL … he would be kicked out, and no other team would touch him with a ten-foot pole.

Bravo channeled their fury into what they did best … solve the problem and develop strategies. As Ray drove, Jason queried Seven over comms on exactly what he saw and where. Jason silently vowed to himself he would find their kid and bring him home … dead or alive … preferable the latter. Then he would make sure Spencer Clayton got the full measure of what he deserved.

* * *

 _ **Rollback 15 minutes – Simir, Niger – Exfil B**_

Clay abruptly stopped and gaped as an illuminating flare soared into the air creating daylight visibility, wiping out any advantage the night gave him. "SHIT!"

He was close enough to see the sedan's driver was Spencer. They locked gazes for one second, and he registered terror and a sneer crossing the man's face. Clay started sprinting across the open field, lifting his weapon and mowing down twelve of the thirteen tangos when they opened fire on his ride out of this shitshow before they even realized he was behind them.

Halfway there, still running, out of ammo, he drew his knife as the last tango between him and his exfil, who likewise ran out of bullets or his gun jammed, pulled out a wicked saber with a curved blade and turned towards him with the intent of stopping him. His tactical knife against a friggin' scimitar made Clay almost laugh.

But all humor left him as Clay watched with stunned disbelief when Spencer drove off. "SIERRA SEVEN, GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!" he shouted to no avail as Spencer spun tires in the gravel and sped away. "SHIT!"

He didn't have time to call out again before he had to engage with the tango. His odds of winning if he got close were nil, so he utilized a skill honed by many nights drinking beer and throwing knives at targets with Sonny. His blade sank true in the man's eye, giving him enough time to close the distance, retrieve the knife and slice the tango's throat.

For a split second, Clay wondered if he could catch Spencer, and started to sprint in that direction as he reached for his comms, only to find it missing the ear and mouthpiece. _Damn, I should just shoot my comms unit at the beginning of every mission … it's always busted when I need it most._

Clay didn't get far before a plethora of insurgents swarmed him. Not one to give up, he dug down deep, attempting to outrun them when he overheard one of them yell to take him alive in a local dialect he understood. If they wouldn't be shooting him, he might be able to elude their fastest runners. His hopes died as headlights illuminated the area in front of him, indicating a vehicle was now pursuing him.

He went down as several men jumped out of the back of a truck. But he continued to struggle. His best chance for escape was to fight like hell. Unfortunately, his efforts were hampered by a sprained wrist and his stamina waning after all his exertion to reach his exfil position.

As he was pinned to the ground on his stomach, arms yanked and stretched above his head Clay seethed. _Gonna kill Spencer when I get free … if Sonny hasn't already slain him._ Though he tried not to reveal his pain, when one of the men stepped on his arm, and another yanked his hands to wind a rope around his wrists to secure them, he let out a small grunt and hiss.

His boots and socks were stripped from him as they laughed about him not being able to run if they took them. Once the coarse rope was secured so tightly it broke his skin, someone tied the other end to the back of the truck as shouts of celebration sounded off around him. _Well, shit! This is gonna suck._

Clay's body jolted as the truck surged forward. A scream erupted from him as his shoulder joint popped out of its socket. How long they dragged through the stone-riddled sand at high-velocity Clay would never know. He strove not to inhale too much dust … an impossibility as his body spun. Sharp rocks sliced through his shirt and pants, creating a myriad of stinging cuts in his skin.

When they finally stopped, Clay coughed, gasped for air, and coughed again in a vicious cycle which prevented him from gaining enough oxygen to stave off lightheadedness. So much grit and sand filled his eyes he couldn't open them so he couldn't determine his location.

Continued shouting and cheering over their successful capture rang in Clay's ears. His scream … not one of elation … joined the cacophony of sounds as his body was lifted into the air by his wrists. He assumed the rope was thrown over a rafter and they hauled him up until his bare feet no longer touched the sand.

Dangling, memories of being hooked, hoisted, and used as a pinata in Mexico came unbidden. He steeled himself for the pain which was about to be inflicted. The worst part was he couldn't prepare for the first blow because he was unable to see. When it came, a hard strike to his solar plexus, he had no breath to scream as the swinging motion on his dislocated joint sent him straight to hell.

Strike after strike left him wishing he would black out, but fate remained unkind to him. In ungodly agony, Spenser lost track of time again as he tried to send his mind to a safe place and disassociate from the torture they put his body through. As he began to drift, gunfire erupted, changing the shouting from victorious to shocked and terrified.

Clay supposed he must be hallucinating as he heard the strains of the Flight of the Valkyries blaring above all else. Images of being carried off by the winged maidens to the afterlife hall of the slain and them serving him mead filled his mind … strange and yet an alluring delusion if it meant cessation to his pain.

* * *

 _ **Present Time - Simir, Niger – Center of the Village**_

Sonny cranked up the volume to the maximum on the van's surprisingly state-of-the-art sound system. Booming through speakers which true music enthusiasts would drool over, he used the Flight of the Valkyries as a distraction as Brock drove straight into the swarm around his little brother.

With one glimpse of Clay strung up in the village, his battered, bloody, dirt-covered body swinging to and fro, the fire in his gut made Sonny more deadly than a pack of great white sharks feeding on chum. A one-man force with the strength of Thor, Sonny flung open the side door and plowed the short distance through the startled insurgents, swacking anyone in his path. His goal … his chosen role … get to Clay and get him back to the van while taking out as many assholes as he could on the way.

He had help in that department. Jason, Ray, and the four support team members took up positions from which they could lay down cover fire … creating chaos. Reaching Spenser, he butted his shoulder against the kid's waist and sliced the rope holding him up. Clay's body limply folded onto him and Sonny braced the bloody legs with one arm as he lifted his weapon in the other to clear a path by shooting anything that moved.

Sadly, he had to dump the kid unceremoniously into the van and Brock was moving again before the door slammed shut. The vehicle bumped and jostled as they drove over dead and not so dead bodies. The screams of the dying didn't faze Sonny one damned bit … these bastards reveled in hurting his brother ... and payback was a bitch.

The rescue, though every second seemed to be a year to Sonny, only took seventeen seconds from the moment Brock slammed into the first insurgent to the moment the van rounded a corner where they picked up Ray and Jason. Rob confirmed all his guys were accounted for and two vehicles sped off into the night leaving scores of terrorists dead or dying. The Valkyries would have a nice haul … but they wouldn't be taking Clay to Valhalla tonight.

* * *

 _ **Van En Route to Niger Airport**_

Jason, Ray, and Sonny all braced Clay, keeping his body as immobile as possible until Brock pulled onto the paved road. Cerb sat in the passenger seat, his head draped over the back, letting little whines come out as he desired to be closer to his boy. But he understood he would only be in the way.

Brock reached over and patted Cerb, hoping to soothe both his dog and himself. "He's gonna be okay. We got him."

Soulful brown eyes stayed on Clay. _He doesn't look okay._ Cerb peered at the shredded clothing covered in dirt and blood. _My boy's blood._ He understood his boy's shoulder didn't look right either … sticking out at an odd angle. Cerb released another whimper.

Jason surveyed the kid as he lay on the floor. He raked a hand through his hair, wishing Trent had not been shot. One, because he didn't want him injured, and two, he wanted him here to treat Clay. Sonny's hitched voice brought him out of his musing.

"Jace, what first? Shoulder or shit … everything else?" Sonny swallowed hard as he shifted, wanting the kid to be alright. He never got used to seeing him injured. He always appeared so young and vulnerable.

Ray suggested, "While he's unconscious, it would be best to put his shoulder back in place. Save him a little pain. We can cut off his clothes and assess the most critical items afterward."

Jason nodded. The three moved with Ray and Jason lifting and holding Clay until Sonny got into position behind him, allowing the kid's back to rest on his chest. Ray wanted to slice the binding, but with no room to manipulate his knife in between Clay's wrists without cutting him, he began working the knots loose.

Peering down at Clay's face, Sonny noted the sorry state. "We need to pour water over his eyes to clean away all the grit … if he wakes, he might try to open them and he don't need any sand in those blue orbs … might cause a problem with his sight."

Glad to have Sierra Two's medic bag with them, Jason opened it and pulled out a saline bag and some gauze. "Shoulder first, eyes next, then the rest."

After Ray removed the rope, Jason took hold of Clay's wrist, noting the swelling and wondering if it was broken. He slowly and firmly pulled Clay's arm forward and straight in front of the kid, applying traction to guide the ball joint back to the shoulder socket without jerking or yanking his arm.

While Jason worked, Ray withdrew a pair of scissors and began carefully cutting up the leg of Spenser's pants. The random rips and tears in the fabric and embedded gravel spoke unmistakably of him being dragged. Silently he sent up a prayer for Clay as he did for Trent. His brothers meant the world to him. Yes, he had Naima and his children, but each brother was irreplaceable and held a special slot in his heart. He already had three empty slots, Nate, Adam, and Swanny … and he didn't want a fourth or fifth one.

"Want to lay him down, so you don't end up soaked?" Jason asked as he opened the saline and prepared the gauze.

"No." Sonny cradled Clay as if he were a porcelain figurine. "He's safe here. I can keep his shoulder supported until we can put it in a sling."

Jason nodded and let the water dribble over Clay's eyes, gently dabbing at the rust-colored dirt … the hue partly due to the terrain and partly to blood from the multitude of small cuts and abrasions covering his face. He worked slow and sure using a light touch over all the wounds, especially the split and swollen lip. No rush since Clay's pulse rate remained steady and stable … so no fear of him going into shock … and the drive to the airport would take an hour and a half.

"This reminds me of when I was seventeen and crashed my motorbike off-road. I ended up with so much road rash embedded, I was sore for weeks and still picking pieces of sand out of my ass a month later," Ray shared as he moved the scissors up the second leg. Reaching Clay's upper thigh, Ray stopped. "Jace, … what the hell is this?"

Sonny peered down to take a gander at what riled Ray. "Geez. He said he had a couple of blisters and some chafing … not that."

Shifting his eyes, Jason noted small blisters in several places on both legs, but the swelling was significant and hot to the touch. "Hell, if I know."

"The blisters on his face are popped. Does he have blisters or swelling anywhere else?" Sonny placed the back of his hand to the kid's head. "He still feels warmer than he should. Sierra Two have a thermometer?"

Jason grabbed the second pair of scissors and began cutting away Clay's shirt. "No … not standard issue … Trent has special stuff because of Clay." Once the shirt was removed, besides all the scrapes, gouges, embedded sand and rocks all over his torso and arms, they found blisters on his lower abs, and three places on one arm.

"Maybe he got something from Solana … heard about a sexually transmitted infection, can't recall the name. But the STI results in skin lesions which can turn into blisters and can cause swollen lymph nodes."

Jason and Ray both glanced at Sonny and Jason snorted. "Leave it to you to know all about STIs."

"Hey, them there medical films they make us watch before deployment … well, some of us pay attention."

Conjecture stopped as Clay moaned. All three spoke over one another offering reassurances.

"You're alright, Simba, we got ya."

"Spenser, relax. Don't move. You're going to okay."

"Brother, hang tight … we know you hurt. We're taking care of you."

Trying to lift his lids, wanting to assure himself he was with his brothers, Clay found it impossible. "Trent, can't open my eyes."

Jason sucked in a breath. "Trent's not here, buddy. You gotta suffer my ministrations."

"Where's Trent?"

Not ready to tell the kid, Jason only said, "In the other van. Where do you hurt?"

"Simpler to say where I don't."

Sonny chuckled, relieved to hear the kid's sense of humor. "Okay, then where do you hurt the most?"

Clay realized he was lying against Sonny, and a ripple of relief flowed through him. "Left wrist and shoulder, and my thigh … water?"

Ray uncapped a bottle. "Only a few sips for now."

"Wanna rinse … Sahara Desert in my mouth."

"Fine, take in a little and spit it out into this." Ray held a scrap of Clay's ruined shirt as he tilted the bottle up for Clay.

After rinsing and taking several small sips, finding it hard to swallow, Clay's mind finally caught up, and his concern for the three missing Bravo members came to the forefront of his thoughts. And he forms only one reason why Trent wouldn't be here helping him. "Brock, Cerb … who is Trent treating … how badly injured? I covered you as long as I could."

Slinking through the little opening between Sonny and the back of the seats, Cerb managed to come close to his boy but still remain out of the way. _Me and Brock are okay_ , his soft, "Wuff," tried to convey.

Jason placed sterile pads over Clay's closed eyes as he said, "Brock's driving." He glanced to the right, noting the hair missile, who until now showed great restraint by staying up front. "And Cerb is to your right."

To avoid talking about Trent, Jason changed the subject. "I'm wrapping your eyes. You might've scratched your corneas with all the sand and debris covering your face. Next, I'm going to splint your wrist." Realizing he needed to distract Clay further, he said, "Give me a sitrep. How did those bastards get their hands on you? I know you said you'd be late to the party … but what happened?"

None of Clay's brothers expected the surge of anger and venom in the kid's voice. "I'm gonna kill Clayton … he fucking left me. SEALs don't leave anyone behind, and he fucking drove off after I swacked twelve of the tangos shooting at him. He spun out as I threw my knife at the scimitar-wielding, thirteenth tango."

Stunned silence only lasted a second before three of four brothers exploded.

"SON OF A BITCH! HE'S A DEAD MAN WALKING! HE AIN'T SEEING ANOTHER SUNRISE."

"THE SWORD OF JUSTICE WILL SEVERE HIS HEAD, AND WE'LL LEAVE HIS LIFELESS CARCASS FOR THE SCAVENGERS."

"CERB'S GONNA SINK HIS TEETH INTO HIS JUGULAR, AND I'M GONNA CUT OFF HIS BALLS AND SHOVE THEM DOWN HIS FUCKING THROAT."

A deadly calm shrouded Jason. He didn't bellow. Didn't voice his thoughts. But for the first time in his life, Jason believed himself capable of committing cold-blooded murder … after a prolonged torture session. Spencer Clayton not only betrayed the kid, he betrayed every SEAL past, present, and future.

Their credo ran through his mind. _My nation expects me to be physically harder, and mentally stronger than my enemies. If I get knocked down, I will get back up, every time. I will draw on every remaining ounce of strength to protect my teammates and to accomplish our mission. I'm never out of the fight._

 _We demand discipline. We expect innovation. The lives of my teammates and the success of our mission depend on me. Our training is never complete. We train for war, we fight to win._

 _I stand ready to bring the full spectrum of combat power to bear in order to achieve my mission and the goals established by my country. The execution of my duties will be swift and violent when required, yet guided by the principles I serve to defend._

 _Brave men have fought and died building the proud tradition and feared reputation I am bound to uphold. In the worst of conditions, the legacy of my teammates steadies my resolve and silently guides my every deed._

 _I will not fail._

Clay Spenser, their brother, personified all it was to be a SEAL and a Tier One operator, whereas Spencer Clayton was the antithesis to all of what SEALs stood for and strove to be. Sierra Seven deliberately and with malice deserted Bravo Six. Payback would be swift and violent, and the only person to blame for his fate was the coward himself.

Being able to control himself when the situation warranted, because quite frankly, no one rose to the rank of Master Chief without the ability to shut down emotions and deal with the most critical things first, Jason stayed focused on tending Clay's wounds. He drew in a breath in and in his command tone, one which brooked no descent he said, "We will deal with Sierra Seven later. Now, I need to concentrate on more important matters."

"Jace, you can't let the shitiot off the hook." Sonny's body vibrated with the desire to tear the limbs off the piece of shit who left his little brother.

Jason pinned Quinn with a glare which communicated much more than his words alone. "I promise you he will never operate again. Clay is our priority at the moment. Settle down … your shaking is causing the kid pain."

The last two sentences caused Sonny to inhale sharply and forcefully hold himself still … not wanting to add to Clay's agony.

After wrapping gauze around Clay's head to keep the pads in place over his eyes, Jason softened his voice as he reached for Clay's swollen wrist. "Sorry, this is gonna hurt. I need to clean the cuts the ropes caused before I splint it."

Clay flinched and hissed at the slight movement. A warm and solid hand slipped into his uninjured one and squeezed. Clay gripped Sonny's hand tightly. His big brother offering him silent support and an anchor to hold, so he didn't drift away. Though he wouldn't admit it aloud, lying against Sonny's chest was like being in a safe harbor, protected from the sea squalls threatening to drown him as he dealt with the myriad of stinging cuts and other aches and sore spots all over his body.

He sucked in a breath and moaned, as sharp shards of white-hot pain shot up his arm and down his fingers when Jason began to tend his wrist. A whisper in his ear, a soft, "I've got you, Simba," from Sonny helped him endure the agony.

Though beyond livid, Ray followed Jason's lead, shoving his rage to the back burner and set to pulling out supplies to clean the multitude of gravel-filled cuts on Clay's legs. Since his brother couldn't see, he also mimicked Jason by explaining what he was going to do before he touched Clay.

Brock's foot pressed hard on the accelerator, speeding down the road. He might be the quietest member of Bravo most times, but he was no less protective of Clay or enraged by what Sierra Seven had done to their kid. Silent but deadly, slipped through Brock's mind. _Spencer will pay a hundred-fold for leaving my brother to be captured and tortured._

As he drove and the others took care of Clay, Brock spent his time scheming of all the ways to mete out significant pain to the self-serving, second-rate sleaze bag who failed to protect a teammate. A sneer formed as he thought about talking to Blackburn about charging Clayton with Article 99.

His actions certainly met multiple definitions of the misbehavior before the enemy article in the Uniform Code of Military Justice. One, runs away. Two, shamefully abandons, surrenders, or delivers up any command, unit, place, or military property which it is his duty to defend. Three, through disobedience, neglect, or intentional misconduct endangers the safety of any such command, unit, place, or military property. Eight, willfully fails to do his utmost to encounter, engage, capture, or destroy any enemy troops, combatants, … which it is his duty so to encounter, engage, capture, or destroy. Nine, does not afford all practicable relief and assistance to any troops, … when engaged in battle.

And the most applicable definition … Five, is guilty of cowardly conduct. Spencer Clayton was a fucking coward and needed to be court-martialed so the entire world would learn of his failure and he would reap the scorn of all service members who would willingly lay their lives on the line to save a fellow brother instead of running away like a scaredy-cat.

Clayton would likely be the first US serviceman convicted of cowardice since 1968 when Private Michael Gross was found guilty of running away from his company in Vietnam and sentenced to two years in prison. And though a guilty verdict could carry the death penalty, unfortunately, Clayton would most likely end up imprisoned and receive a dishonorable discharge. But at least he would no longer be a member of SEALs and he would promptly be dismissed from their minds … as if he never existed.

The cry of pain from the rear brought Brock out of his reflections. He wanted to look back, but driving at over ninety miles an hour, he must keep his eyes on the road, but that didn't stop him from saying. "Give him something to relieve his agony."

Sonny now held Clay's head in his lap after they rolled him on his right side to clean his back … the source of Simba's vocalization of his discomfort occurred when his shoulder moved. Sonny swiveled his head to peer at Brock. "He doesn't want morphine. Can't blame him after Tibet."

Continuing to lightly stroked through Clay's sand-laced, gritty and sweaty hair with one hand, Sonny provided the only comfort he could at the moment. Glad the kid settled swiftly and accepted this soothing gesture without swatting his hand away. Though in truth, Clay's only mobile hand was still clinging to his and squeezing so hard, a pins and needles sensation started to form in Sonny's fingers.

"Don't you have something else?" Brock recalled the kid being strung out on the opioids forced on him in unregulated quantities by a well-meaning, yet clueless young woman named Padma.

"Would if we had Trent's Spenser kit, but that is in the other van," Jason answered, kicking himself for not grabbing the special med-bag because now the kid was unduly suffering.

His voice shaking with pain, Clay asked, "Who is Trent treating?"

The time had come, he couldn't delay any longer, and Jason opened his mouth to tell him, but Sonny beat him to the punch.

Pitching his voice soft, Sonny shared, "Trent's hurt. We took care of him, and now Sierra Two is caring for him. Scott's a great medic too, so relax. And just so you know, Trent is as stubborn as you and he'll be right as rain shortly."

"Hurt, how?" Clay coughed.

"Took slugs to his shoulder, side, and arm. Need some more water?" Ray asked as he put the water bottle to Clay's lips.

Clay sucked in the offered water, wanting to slake his thirst, but his throat seemed to be swelling, making it hard to swallow, and some of the liquid dribbled out. "Jace?"

"Yeah?" Jason halted in wiping a section of Clay's abraded back.

"My … throat … swelling."

Ray shone the light on Clay's neck as Jason shifted his attention and reached out to palpate, but stopped short when he noted more blisters had formed, and the kid's neck appeared as red and swollen as his upper thigh. "What the hell?"

Jason did the only thing he could do with his limited supplies, starting an IV, he pushed a dose of corticosteroids into the port, hoping to reduce the inflammation before the swelling caused the kid to suffocate. He really didn't want to intubate if he didn't have to, but he would if required to save Clay's life.

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Simba's Walk of Pride**

 _ **Van En Route to Niger Airport**_

After forty minutes of working to clean Clay's wounds, Jason sat back on his heels and released a weary sigh as he glanced over to Ray. "That's the best we can do for now. Luckily, the swelling isn't getting worse. Don't know whether it is the steroid or the ibuprofen I gave him."

Ray nodded. "Wish we knew what caused those lymph nodes to swell and those little blisters. But you said he had those before we went on the mission?"

"Yeah, and the low-grade fever. Trent wasn't sure what caused blisters, and I wish we had made him drop his pants to check his leg … he said it was a little swollen. Might've made him sit this one out. And if I had, he wouldn't be in a world of hurt now."

"Whoa, whoa, brother … no second guessing yourself. Trent cleared him to go. If not for Clay, our assess would've been toast tonight. And if Sierra Seven had not been a coward and left the kid, he would've made it out with only a sprained wrist." Ray shifted to his butt, finally letting his tense muscles relax having been strung taunt ever since Spencer arrived at the rendezvous point sans Clay.

"Perhaps." Jason's gaze returned to Bravo Six who slipped into an uneasy slumber after receiving a dose of analgesics, and they finished fashioning a makeshift sling to strap his arm and keep his shoulder immobile. Clay now nestled in a semi-upright position between Sonny's legs with his back and head against Quinn's chest.

Cerb had situated himself, so his furry body acted as a support for Clay's arm, though not actually needed. But after peering into the brown orbs, Jason believed the hair missile just wanted to be close to his boy. Their dog had an affinity for Clay almost as strong as he had for Brock. Jason sometimes wondered how much stress Cerb would be under if he could save only one of the two. Though, ultimately, Cerberus would save Brock first … his deepest loyalty to his handler … as it should be.

Ray handed Jason a water bottle and uncapped one for Sonny too before opening one for himself. "What are we going to do about what Spencer did?"

"String him up by the short hairs and beat him senseless," Sonny grumbled softly so he wouldn't wake Clay.

"No. We make sure he is charged with an Article 99," Brock said. "As much as we all want to beat the shit out of the guy, we need to keep our hands clean if we want to continue operating as a team."

Jason considered Brock's suggestion. The funny thing about their nearly mute dog handler was when he spoke, he had something significant to say and always made sense.

Reading his best friend's expression, Ray took a sip of water before adding his two cents. "I agree, but how we gonna keep Sonny from killing Spencer when we arrive?"

Jason chuckled, as his eyes landed back on Sonny. "Simple. Bravo Three, you're in charge of taking care of Simba. He is your priority, and the scum of the earth will be dealt with … and that is a direct order."

"Copy. But understand this now, if the shitiot comes within striking distance of our cub, I will be complying fully with your orders when I repeatedly slam my fist into his face."

"So noted." Jason downed half his water. Keying his comms for the fourth time, he said, "Bravo One to Havoc." He waited for a response, needing to provide Blackburn with a sitrep. Getting no answer again, he finally shifted to a more comfortable position. "Comms are still down."

Ray nodded. "Blackburn's probably stressed out. No ISR, no comms … he's blind to whether we are alive or dead. Don't envy his position one bit. Always hate being on the sidelines, waiting."

Silence enveloped the van for the next thirty minutes, only broken by occasional moans from Clay when he jostled due to the less than stellar paved road. Each time he would end up squeezing Sonny's hand, before settling back into a state of light sleep.

"We're about ten mics from the airport," Brock conveyed.

"Wanna … walk." Clay rasped out, his throat now sore, but fortunately still open.

"What was that, Simba?" Sonny asked, surprised Clay spoke.

"Don't want …" Clay coughed.

Pressing the water bottle to Clay's lips, Sonny urged, "Take a few sips then speak."

After drinking, Clay repeated his request. "Want to walk onto the plane."

"Kid, you're a mess, let us carry you," Jason said.

"Yeah, you aren't heavy, you're our brother," Ray used the corny phrase but meant every word. They all carried each other at one time or another.

"Nah, I agree with Simba. I'll help. But so you're aware, you're wearing only boxers." Sonny understood why Clay wanted to walk. In his condition now, if he entered the plane under his own power, any and all joking about them leading him on wearing the strap would instantly dissipate and never be brought up again. The kid needed to show his strength and regain his self-esteem in the eyes of the support team.

"Don't care." Clay didn't, restoring his sense of pride, and showing Spencer he survived seemed more important to him at this moment than his state of dress. He would walk stark-assed naked if truth be told, and if he could see, he would plant his fist in the coward's face.

"Mandy will be there," Jason tried one last time, his words having a twofold meaning. First, he didn't believe the kid was up to walking, and Clay might rethink his request to protect her sensibilities. Second, Mandy would be kicking herself that her intel sent them into a trap, and seeing the kid in such a state would likely twist her gut … and heart even more. She might try to hide her emotions, but after what she did to track down those responsible for the bomb in Manila, which almost sidelined the kid permanently, she revealed her soft spot for Clay.

"I'm sure she's seen a guy in less."

Relenting, recalling the soles of Clay's feet were the two areas unaffected, and coming up with a workable solution which allowed Clay to do what he seemed he must, and still protect Mandy slightly, Jason nodded, but then realized the kid couldn't see him. "Alright. But before you get out of the van, we'll wrap a blanket around your shoulders."

"K. More water, please."

Ray offered his bottle since Clay finished off Sonny's a few moments ago. "Slow now, don't guzzle, but you can drink as much as you want."

* * *

 _ **Aircraft on Niger Tarmac**_

Spencer Clayton sat on a seat near the ramp watching Scott and Terrance, aka Sierra Six, tend to Trent. Bravo's medic roused once, noticed in whose care he was and smiled, but it turned to a frown when Scott told him Clay was missing and the rest of the teams were trying to locate him. The laser glare Sawyer sent his way contained so much heat Spencer swore he had been scorched.

His gaze turned to Blackburn, who was not happy in the least that he couldn't raise Bravo on comms. The lieutenant commander barked orders to try and get a satellite redirected to provide him some sort of visibility. He despised Blackburn for dressing him down over a few jokes. No one else ever got that kind of treatment.

Sawyer should've been brought up on assault charges, but just like Spenser with an S, he was given special treatment. In Blackburn's eyes, none of Bravo could do anything wrong. But in all cases, Spenser was to blame for all the shit … Spenser was the Curse of Bravo whether anyone besides him recognized. If Commander Shaw were still around, he would've taken his complaint directly to him again.

Shifting his gaze to the CIA agent, an idea began to form. The deaths of any who didn't come back would lay squarely at her feet. This op was planned with her intel … which sucked and lured them into a trap. If she was as smart as she thought she was, she should've recognized that the IIB would've worked up some plan after they snagged so many leaders of sects in Africa.

Her stupid mistake would be the cause of Spenser's death, Sawyer's and his wounds, and potentially more deaths or injuries if Bravo and Sierra were killed trying to locate Spenser's body. He would be scot-free and in the clear … one of the victims of shoddy intel and poor planning by Hayes, Blackburn, and Ellis.

Spencer moved his arm and let out a moan, causing his ire to increase yet again. After changing out of his pissed-on clothes and cleaning up as well as possible with the sanitary wipes, he had to tend to his own wound. Scott gave him the barest glance and told him to wrap it with sterile gauze, and he would see to it when he could. Terrance hadn't even bothered to ask him how he was … ignored him completely.

Three more on his shit list … Scott, Terrance, and that damned dog Cerberus. His transfer couldn't come soon enough now. Everyone sided with Spenser … and he couldn't fathom why. There was nothing special about him. He was a spoiled screw-up who only made it through Green Team because he was second-generation … and Adam Seaver ran with Ash Spenser back in the day.

Peering down at his piss-covered boots, still wearing them because he didn't have a second pair with him to change into, his mind shifted back to the dog. It would be easy enough to slip some poison into a piece of steak and rid the world of the ugly Malinois. Would serve Reynolds' too for allowing his mutt to pee on him.

Two vehicles coming to a stop at the ramp pulled Spencer from his thoughts. He watched as Rob and his other teammates exited the sedan and move to the van, their faces in grim lines. His hope they found a dead Spenser soared.

Jason opened the sliding door on the side of the van and spotted Rob. "We need a blanket."

Rob pivoted, and his stomach plummeted, thinking the worse … the kid didn't survive. Though he wanted to stop and punch Spencer, he grabbed a blanket and the stretcher. He almost picked up one of the flags they used to drape fallen eagles but refrained because Jason had not requested the item.

Rushing to the rear of the plane, Eric sucked in a breath as Rob sprinted down the ramp and to the van. If he read the man's expression right, at least one of his men had died … and Clay was the most likely candidate since Sierra Seven indicated Bravo Six never made it to the exfil location and had to bug out when overrun by forty insurgents.

Steeling himself, Eric counted off the ones he saw. All of Sierra. Brock rounded the van. Cerb hopped out of the back. Jason, Ray …. His heart thudded so hard every beat sounded in his ears.

Jason unfurled the blanket and crawled back inside to wrap it over Clay's injured shoulder and under the armpit of his right side. He used clamps from the med-kit to secure it in place so that it didn't fall off as he walked with his good arm over Sonny's shoulder. He and Ray then lifted Clay's legs as they scooted him to the edge of the opening and Sonny moved forward supporting Clay's back.

Sitting on Clay's right side, Sonny took his brother's arm and slung it over his shoulders. "Ready whenever you are, Simba. You set the pace." He glanced around at the shocked expressions of the four Sierra members.

"He's gonna walk … in _that_ condition?" Rob said what all his men were thinking.

"Ready," Clay softly said then gritted his teeth as stiff and abused muscles protested his movement. He was grateful Sonny stood in slow motion. He took a moment to stand as straight as possible, but due to sore abs, he still stooped over a little.

Shuffling forward with his eyes bandaged, Clay couldn't witness the admiration on the faces of the support team as the semi-circle around the van opened a path for him and Sonny. Nor could he see Blackburn's jaw drop and the smile form as the lieutenant commander realized all his men were alive … though banged up. Mandy's gasp was too soft to reach his ears, and she swiped away the tears filling her eyes before anyone noticed as she watched Sonny helping Clay to the ramp.

The one countenance he wanted to see he couldn't, so he whispered to Sonny, "What is Spencer's expression?"

Sonny shifted his gaze, allowing all the hatred he had for Clayton to be communicated in his glare. "I do believe he is scared shitless, little buddy."

"Good. Cause I don't think he expected me to be alive to tell what he did." Clay moaned softly as he continued to move, each step a laborious effort with aching muscles and bone-deep fatigue. "Could sleep for a week."

"Almost to the ramp. You got this. A nice comfy gurney is waiting for you. One step at a time, Simba. You can sleep all you want … I'll keep you safe while you saw logs."

A short-lived chuckle emitted from Clay, as tremors jarring his shoulder stopped him. "Think I prefer, snooze, siesta, or slumber as a synonym … sawing logs sounds like too much effort."

Sonny would've retorted with a snappy comeback, maybe something about Ken Doll having too much book learnin', but they started up the ramp, and he took more of the Clay's weight as the kid's stamina waned.

Blackburn started to ask how they rescued Clay, but when Jason surged up the ramp and went straight for Spencer, spinning the man and yanking Spencer's hands behind his back as Ray pulled a zip-tie out and slipped over Sierra Seven's wrist, pulling the cuffs tight, his words changed. "What the hell are you doing?"

As Brock joined Jason and Ray, spinning Spencer again and shoving him down in a seat, standing guard, Jason turned to Blackburn. "What did he tell you about the situation … why he left exfil B without Clay?"

"Said forty insurgents were spraying his vehicle with bullets, and Spenser was nowhere to be seen. He waited as long as he could and then had to leave, or he would be dead. Said he tried to raise Spenser on comms to locate another pickup position but got no response." Blackburn's gut twisted as he recognized the controlled fury emanating from the three Bravo members in front of him.

Across the aisle, now seated on the gurney, Sonny supporting him because he wasn't ready to lie down, Clay overheard Blackburn and his assumption Spencer expected him to be dead was validated. He waited because Jason explained what they planned to do.

Keeping his voice under tight control, Jason said, "I believe you will be surprised to find Bravo Six's account somewhat different. Clay, please share what actually happened."

Eric turned, his concern ratcheting up, taking in Clay's condition up close.

Clay related the pertinent details which would become part of his after-action report, "Had to dodge multiple tangos after providing cover fire as long as I could for Bravo to escape the building. As I left my perch, I had to jump out a window when they entered the abode. My path was blocked, and I radioed Jason I would be a little late to my exfil pos as I had to find another way.

"Injured my wrist when I landed wrong trying to take a rooftop route. Managed to get up on a wall and scan the area. Saw the sedan approaching and knew I had to run like hell, so support wasn't exposed too long. Found a gate which was further away, but at that point climbing over another wall was not in the cards.

"As I exited the gate, the insurgents fired an illuminating flare. There were thirteen tangos between me and Spencer in the open field. Spencer and I locked gazes for a second or two then I sprinted forward, firing and swacking twelve. He never fired a single shot to cover me.

"When I ran out of ammo, I pulled my knife to deal with the remaining one. He had a friggin' scimitar. Spencer left as I confronted the last tango. He just fucking drove away. I was alive. I was mobile. I was almost there. He could've killed the tango. Could've driven closer to me … but he left me.

"I ran after him after slitting the sword-wielding tango's throat, but he disappeared from sight as headlights from a vehicle shone on me. They grabbed me … wanted me alive from what I understood from their yelling. They tied me to the back of the truck and dragged me, dislocating my shoulder before hoisting me up someplace … don't know where. I couldn't see with sand in my eyes.

"They began beating me … until well, not sure if I was hallucinating, but the Flight of the Valkyries changed their cheering to screaming … then I woke up in the back of the van with my brothers."

The effort to spill his story took every ounce of gas Clay had left in his tank, and he slumped against Sonny. He whispered, "Gotta lay down now."

Sonny eased Clay down, resting his head on the pillow. "You did good, sleep now."

"Hmm." Clay slipped off, unaware of anything going on around him.

Spencer shouted, "HE'S FUCKING LYING. SPENSER WASN'T THERE, I WOULD NEVER LEAVE SOMEONE LIKE THAT. I'M NO COWARD. I WON'T BE THE SCAPEGOAT FOR HIS SCREW UP. I FACED INSURMOUNTABLE ODDS … SIXTY TO ONE."

Jason arched a brow. "Before it was forty … where did those extra twenty come from?" As Spencer sputtered for a reply, he added, "Blackburn, we leave this coward in your hands, and expect he will be charged with an Article 99 for cowardice in the face of the enemy and shamefully abandoning a teammate, which was his duty to defend. We have more important matters to attend to … namely Clay and Trent."

With that, Jason moved towards Trent to check with Scott on his condition. Hayes ignored the stunned expressions of all of those who heard Clay's account, measured it against Spencer's report, and found Bravo Six to be more believable. His primary concern, the well-fare of his men.

Scott closed his gaping mouth and sucked in a sharp breath as Jason approached. He dismissed all else, returning to medic mode as he shared, "Trent is stable. He woke once and asked about you guys. He was not happy to learn Clay was missing. Told me the blue pack in his kit contains special meds for Clay."

Jason nodded but still took Trent's pulse for himself, needing the reassurance of the steady beat. After several moments, he moved to Clay and noted Scott had already started a new saline bag and something else. "What are you giving him?"

"Sulfamethoxazole. I can't be certain until he is tested, but those blisters and swollen lymph nodes might be cat scratch fever. My sister, who loves cats, contracted it once. The node behind her ear swelled to the size of a golf ball."

"How the hell did he get cat scratch fever?" Sonny asked.

Scott turned to Quinn. "Clay told me a Siamese cat clawed up him to get away from Cerberus when you guys snagged el-Samad."

"When did he tell you that?" Ray asked as he came to the gurney.

"After I asked him about the scratches on his neck, legs, and arm the next day when we grabbed showers at the same time. Symptoms usually take a week to present." He chuckled, "And they can be mistaken for an STI called lymphogranuloma venereum. His symptoms fit … even the low fever and headache Trent treated him for before the mission. Fatigue is also a symptom, but with as much as we've been going the last week, he would probably chalk it up to being run-ragged."

Sonny sighed. "This cat scratch fever … is it deadly?"

"Not usually. People with impaired immune systems are at greatest risk. Clay's strong and healthy. And I believe after some rest, a course of antibiotics, and ibuprofen to reduce the swelling and fever Clay will be fine. But like I said, for an accurate diagnosis, the doctors will need to perform a polymerase chain reaction for Bartonella henselae."

Noting the confused miens, Scott clarified using terms they would understand, "PCR, like in a DNA blood test. It will detect both live and dead organism present in his body."

The medical gobbly-gook always went over Sonny's head, and he latched onto the key piece … Clay will be fine … which set his mind at ease as he sank into a seat next to his little brother.

Unbeknownst to the rest of Bravo or anyone else on the plane as they stowed gear and prepared to take off, Cerb sniffed out Spencer's pack, dragged it away from all the other kits. Using his teeth, he tugged open the duffel bag then squatted and left a pile of stinky shit inside. After pooping, he lifted his leg and soaked it with pee … his personal statement of what he thought of the stinking coward who left his boy to die.

When he finished, Cerberus trotted over to Clay and took up a guard position. His keen eyes tracking the man he wished to sink his teeth into as Sierra One and Blackburn moved a cuffed Spencer to the front of the plane and secured him in a seatbelt.

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Substantive Evidence Required**

 _ **Next Afternoon – Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Outside Room 316**_

"No fucking way!" Sonny refrained from shouting in the hospital, but clenched his fists, so wanting to smash them into something … someone … namely, Spencer Clayton.

"I'm sorry, I tried. But it is Clay's word against Spencer's. Unless substantive evidence proves Clay's allegations against Spencer, he can't be charged or held in the brig." Blackburn hated delivering this news to the team, but it would be best for them to find out directly from him.

Jason seethed as he leaned against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. So exhausted … he had not slept a wink on the plane, keeping a vigil on both Trent and Clay. Nor could he sleep during the hours in the waiting room while Trent was in surgery and an ophthalmologist was brought in to assess Clay's eyes.

His boys now shared a room. Something Blackburn managed to finagle since this was the post-surgical floor and Clay didn't require surgery. Perhaps the doctors were swayed by the idea of corralling all the SEALs in one location, so they didn't disrupt the hospital staff. Whatever the reason, and however it came about, Jason was grateful for the small boon.

However, learning Clayton might get away with what he did to the kid, didn't sit well. And if he weren't dog-tired, he would seek vengeance through his fists. "I'll tell Clay after dinner. He deserves to know."

Brock could only shake his head and rake his fingers through his black curls. He wanted to rage at the injustice … but kept quiet for now. He needed to think … to figure out how they might turn the tables.

"What are you doing to help them find evidence?" Ray asked.

Eric blew out a breath. "Mandy is checking with her sources. Perhaps if we can locate and snag an insurgent who witnessed what happened … then maybe. It will be a long shot."

"Not right. Not right at all," Sonny groused. "The shitiot left him, and he changed his story … that should be all that is needed to convict him. I can beat a confession out of him."

Releasing a weary sigh, Jason pushed off the wall. "No, you can't."

"Like hell, I can't." Sonny pounded his fist in his other palm.

"Let me rephrase. No, you won't. And that is an order." Jason held Sonny's gaze. "Got it?"

Sonny pivoted. "Copy. I'm going to the gym. Tell Simba I'll be back soon."

Ray glanced at Jason. "I'll go with him and keep him out of trouble." He hurried after the furious Texan and decided he might use the heavy bag himself to release his own rage.

"I should go let Cerb out of his kennel." Brock waited a moment for Jason's nod.

"Give him another treat and tell him he is a good boy. Cerb shitting in Spencer's bag and making him piss his pants might be all the payback Clay gets."

Brock grinned and nodded. He headed for the stairs recalling the foul odor permeated the plane and how Blackburn made Clayton seal his bag in a plastic bag to curb the stench. The coward was ticked off and tried to kick Cerb on his way back to his seat. Cerb's growl and lunge in response caused Clayton to wet his pants. And with nothing to change into … seeing as Cerb peed and pooped on his clothes, Spencer had to remain in his urine-soaked pants.

With only he and Jason left, Eric said, "I'll do everything in my power to fix this. If this is any consolation, Clayton won't be operating during the NCIS investigation, and the shadow of accusation will follow him. Everyone up our chain of command to Admiral Droit believes Clay. But their hands are tied to proceed with a court-martial until indisputable evidence is produced."

"Keep me apprised." Jason moved towards the door but halted when Eric spoke.

"Trent wake yet?" Eric wanted to be here, but the Clayton issue took precedence until now.

"Briefly. He was in pain, and they dosed him up. He's been sleeping ever since."

"How's Clay doing? Must be unnerving for him to have his eyes bandaged."

"He's a bit stoic at the moment … when he is awake. Mostly, I believe he sleeps, but hard to tell with covered eyes."

"Probably best for him at the moment. I still can't believe he walked onto the plane in his condition."

"Kid's strong."

Eric nodded. "Yeah. Jason, you grab some shut-eye. You're dead on your feet and—" A crash from inside the room interrupted Eric, and both rushed in as Jason shoved the door open.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Room 316**_

Waking with an urgent need to use the restroom, Clay's hand searched for the call button, but not finding it resigned himself to asking for help. "Need a hand to the head."

He waited for a response from one of the guys and when none came, and the call of nature insisted on being heeded Clay swung his feet off the bed. He skootched forward and stood, his aching muscles screaming at him. Not tethered to an IV, he shuffled forward, trying to determine a path to the toilet.

The arm not strapped to his chest waved in front of him as he chose to go right. As his hand swept back and forth searching for obstacles, he made contact with something and knocked it to the ground. The lack of sound meant he hadn't broken anything, so he continued.

What he didn't count on was water being in the cup he sent to the floor, and his bare feet slipped on the slick surface. Clay reached out to stop his descent and latched onto something … but it was the rolling table, and his hand landed on the lunch tray which slid off and crashed to the ground with him.

Clay landed on his backside just as Jason shouted, "Clay, what the hell are you doing out of bed?"

"This sucks … gotta take a leak."

Jason's and Eric's strong arms wrapped around Clay and helped him to his feet as Eric said, "Why didn't you ask for help?"

"Couldn't find the button. I did. No one answered," Clay snapped back.

"Sorry, I was outside the room, and the others aren't here at the moment." Jason slung Clay's arm over his shoulders and pivoted them. "Bathroom is to the left of your bed. We made sure you were closest to it." He maneuvered the kid to the toilet and then stepped out to give him privacy.

Eric finished wiping up the water after picking up the half-eaten sandwich and other items from the floor, which needed to be mopped now. "I'll send in someone to clean this on my way out. Anything you or Clay need?"

Jason shook his head. "No. Got him covered."

"Okay, but you need sleep. I'll stay with him tonight. I want you all in your bunks … you're all beyond exhausted." Eric tossed the wet paper towels into the trash can.

"Sonny isn't going to go willingly." Jason stifled a yawn.

"I can order him … don't want to, but I will. You may be down two guys, but I need you four in condition to go after el-Sylla when Mandy locates him. We all want payback for the setup which injured Trent and Clay. I spun up Alpha to help. They will arrive tomorrow." Eric eyed Hayes.

"Yeah, alright. I'll make sure Sonny racks out in the barracks, but I'm staying here. I'll sleep in the recliner."

"No … you'll go too."

Refusing to back down, Jason dropped his voice so Clay couldn't hear, "Not leaving the kid alone with Spencer out of the brig. Not happening. I'm not leaving him in a vulnerable condition. Hell, he can't even walk to the toilet by himself."

Jason's phone buzzed, and he yanked it out of his pocket, worried Ray had his hands full with keeping Sonny from seeking out Spencer. Surprise lit his face when Brock's photo displayed. "Brock?"

His tone a mix of worry and anger, Brock barked, "Cerb is sick. He is puking his guts out. The vet is on the way, but the kennel master said he saw an unauthorized person in here a few hours ago. He shooed him out, but by his description, it is Clayton. I think he poisoned Cerb, but I have no idea how he could get close enough to do so."

"Shit! Want me to come?" Jason understood the bond between Brock and Cerb, and if his dog had been poisoned, he would need his brothers.

"You're covering Clay and Trent. No. If he can stoop so low as to leave Clay and hurt my dog, then Clay might be in danger."

"I'll call Ray … he and Sonny will be there shortly."

"Yeah, okay. Gotta go … the vet is here." Brock hung up.

"What happened with Brock?" Clay asked from the doorway. He overheard Jason's side only.

Turning to assist Clay back to his bed, Jason said, "Cerb's sick."

Eric's eyes rounded, putting two and two together without Jason explaining … Spencer had been livid when Cerb shit in his bag … if the man was low enough to leave a fellow SEAL, Eric wouldn't put it past him to seek revenge on a dog.

"How?" Clay shuffled, aching more after his ungraceful fall.

"Don't know yet. Vet is gonna take a look at him." Jason helped Clay sit and scoot back on the bed, difficult to do with one arm and a battered body.

Luckily, the road rash and cuts were mostly superficial, none needing stitches. And the beating he took didn't do any internal damage, no bleeding, no broken bones … not even his wrist, which turned out to be only sprained. So his worst injuries were his sprained wrist and dislocated shoulder … both of which along with all the abrasions, cuts, scrapes, contusions, and the sores manifested by cat scratch fever needed a few weeks to heal.

Jason placed the call button in Clay's hand. "Gonna step out of the room for a moment to," he didn't want to tell Clay why, so said, "to grab a coffee. You want one or a soda?"

"No. Thanks. Tired … gonna sleep. Tell Brock I hope it is nothing serious with Cerb."

"Will do. Won't be gone long." Jason pulled the light sheet over Clay's lower half then headed for the door.

"I'll check in on you later," Eric said before he followed Jason.

"K." Clay yawned, his short trip to the restroom taking more out of him than he would've imagined.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Kennels**_

Brock sat on the floor, holding Cerb's head in his lap, running his fingers lightly over his head, stroking him as Samantha, the vet, finished her exam. He peered up as Ray and Sonny sprinted into the area, noting the fire in their eyes along with concern.

"How is the hair missile?" Sonny said as he dropped to a knee beside Brock and lay a supportive hand on his shoulder.

"Not good." Brock clenched one fist as Cerb let out a soft whine and started gagging again … a terrible aacking sound which didn't produce any vomit since Cerb already disgorged his stomach contents.

Ray turned to the kennel master. "You said you saw someone who shouldn't be here. Where was he when you spotted him?"

Sergio tore his eyes off the sick canine. "Two aisles over. He wasn't near Cerberus."

"What's in that area?"

His eyes widened as realization socked him hard in the gut. "The food … excuse me … I need to check something." Sergio sprinted to the other aisle and returned a few moments later carrying a sealed bag. "This is the food you supplied," Sergio spoke to Brock. "I thought my assistant filled the bowls … but since this is sealed, she couldn't have, and I served Cerb a full bowl. God, I'm sorry. He must've put something into the dish."

Everyone's eyes turned to the partially empty container in Cerb's cage as Samantha pulled it out and said, "I'm going to start him on fluids and get this tested to see if I can find out what we are dealing with. Hopefully, his vomiting so quickly after eating prevented him from absorbing too much of whatever might be in here. On the off chance this is viral or bacterial, we need to quarantine Cerb from the other canines."

"I got a room here with a single cot. Brock, you can stay there with Cerb if you want," Sergio offered.

"Yeah. Thanks."

Sonny rose, seething with rage … ready to send Spencer six feet under. "Got me some payback to mete out."

Ray grabbed his sleeve. "Whoa! No. Like before, we need to keep our hands clean."

"AND WHAT DID THAT GAIN? HUH? THE COWARD IS OUT, AND HE POISONED CERB. WHAT IF HE TRIES TO HURT CLAY? I AIN'T GIVIN' HIM A CHANCE."

Ray used the only thing he believed would keep the Mighty Quinn from severing Spencer's head. "The kid needs someone to cover his six. He can't see now … he's vulnerable. Brother, Clay needs you more now, than you need vengeance."

Shrugging out of the hold, Sonny didn't react as Ray expected. "You're wrong. You keep an eye on Simba with Jason. I'm sending the shitiot coward straight to hell when I find him."

Before Ray could stop Sonny, the Texan sprinted from the room.

"Go after him. Cerb's in good hands with Samantha and me," Brock urged. "Sonny's gonna do something stupid and ruin his life … stop him before it is too late."

Nodding, Ray rushed after Sonny for the second time in the last hour. He pulled his phone out and dialed Rob, wanting and needing the support team to help corral Sonny before he committed career suicide.

After his brothers left, with the help of Sergio and Samantha, Brock rose, gently lifted Cerb, and carried him to the soft bed awaiting him. As much as he wanted Spencer Clayton to pay and to slam his fists in the son of a bitch's face, his priority was his fuzzy, four-legged brother.

Lying Cerb down, Brock knelt next to him and stroked his back as Cerb whimpered in pain. "I'm here, boy, not leaving you, buddy. You're gonna pull through … you have to ..." his voice broke as he choked up, "'cause I can't lose you. Stay strong …"

Sergio and Samantha pretended they didn't see the steady flow of tears from the SEAL's eyes. They loved animals too … and losing one hurt as much and sometimes more than losing a family member because dogs possessed golden hearts and gave unconditional love.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Room 316**_

After calling Ray outside the room so he could give him and Blackburn the details at the same time, he returned to the chair between Clay and Trent. Not long after he slipped into an uneasy sleep, his body required rest. The buzzing of his phone woke him, and he noted a full two hours had elapsed since he called Ray.

Sleepily he answered, "Hey, Ray, how's Cerb?"

"Not sure …not there. We got us a problem."

Jason shifted up, as if Trent, Clay, and Cerb all down, and Clayton not being charged weren't enough problems. "What now?"

"I'm in the ER with Sonny."

"Shit! What happened?"

"Well, changing Quinn's mind is a little more challenging than I thought. He tore out of the kennels on the warpath. Took me, Rob, Scott, and Terrance to subdue him. And well, shit, he still broke free of us and sprinted around the corner … smack dab into service truck traveling at a fairly good clip. He whacked his skull on the pavement. His speech is a little slurred and they're going to do a scan to rule out fractures."

"Damn. Other than the head injury … how is he?"

Ray shifted the ice bag on his groin and let out a soft moan. "Doesn't seem to have damaged anything else … though he gonna be sore. You should see the dent in the front of the truck. Sonny's built like a tank."

Not missing the sound from his best friend, Jason said, "And what are your damages?"

"Nothing big … only a little swelling. Icing it now."

"Swelling where?" Jason didn't like Ray's evasive answer.

"Sonny didn't do it on purpose."

"Do what?"

Realizing Jason would keep pestering him, and his awkward shuffle would give him away, he relented. "Kneed me in the scrotum when he tried to get out of our hold."

"Shit. Guess Blackburn will be glad he sent for Alpha. We're in no condition to go after el-Sllya now. Keep me apprised if they are admitting him. And if they aren't, cuff him to a bunk if you have to. Killing Clayton isn't something we can allow no matter how much we want him to pay for what he did."

"Copy. And we might have a way to lock up Clayton. Sergio can identify him as being in the kennels down the food aisle. If Cerb's food test positive for poison, we might be able to charge him with that."

"Even if he IDs the coward, that won't be proof Clayton added the poison to Cerb's food … if that is the case."

"Cerb was poisoned?" Clay stated, having listened to Jason's conversation.

Jason's gaze whipped to Clay. _Shit, I thought he was asleep._ "Ray, gotta go. Clay's awake." He disconnected and sighed. The time had come to reveal the issue with Spencer being released from custody. "We're not certain, but it might be the case. He is sick, and the kennel master identified Spencer as being in the area prior to Cerb being fed."

"How? You said he was going to be charged with an Article 99 and you would make sure he was arrested." Clay's stomach rolled with the thought Spencer went after Cerb. "And why would he do that to Cerberus?"

Jason needed more sleep before tackling this, but that wouldn't be happening. The only silver lining is that he wouldn't have to witness the disappointment in Clay's blue orbs. "Blackburn came by earlier … they couldn't hold Clayton. At this point, it is his claim against yours. Not enough proof to charge him so the MPs had to release him.

"Sorry, kid. Ellis is searching for anything which might support your version and provide solid evidence to put him away for a long time. We're not going to rest until we find something."

Clay held himself stiff, not liking one damned bit the turn of events. "And Cerb?"

"When Brock called a few hours ago to tell me Cerb was sick, he believed Clayton sought revenge against him because the hair missile christened and anointed the contents of his duffle." When Clay appeared puzzled by his choice of words, Jason rephrased, "Cerb took a dump in Spencer's bag on the plane and peed on it. Blackburn made Spencer put his pack in a plastic bag, and as the shithead returned to his seat, he tried to kick Cerb. When Cerb growled and lunged at him, Clayton pissed his pants.

"So, it seems highly likely he put something in Cerb's food … but again we need proof. If his food test positive for poison, I'm certain NCIS will investigate this as attempted murder of a service member, as they are in your case."

Clay nodded. "So who has a head injury and swelling?"

Jason couldn't help the mirthless chuckle that emitted. "Sonny ran into a truck trying to get away from Ray and several support guys. You know how Sonny can get … he wanted to bash in Spencer's face. He accidentally kicked Ray in the balls … and well, he's feeling some pain. Sonny's got a hard skull, so I doubt they will find any fractures."

Noting the slumped shoulders, Jason quickly said, "Kid, none of this is your fault." Clay's words told him he completely misread the body language.

"I know. As soon as I can see, I'm gonna smash my fists into Spencer's face for hurting Cerb and causing harm indirectly to Sonny and Ray. He's gonna rue the day he hurt my brothers."

Jason's brows rose. "Hopefully, he'll be behind bars by then. Not losing you to assault charges."

"Be worth it to me," Clay stated with conviction.

"Not to me. We need you on the team. Running without you isn't something any of us liked while you rehabbed from the bombing in Manilla. We'll let NCIS do its thing … and we'll do ours. Things will sort out in the end. Blackburn informed me Admiral Droit won't allow Clayton to operate as a SEAL again. So the brass believes you whether we can prove it or not."

A nurse, built like a Sherman tank bustled in and headed straight for her patient. Jason sucked in a breath at the stern countenance, but his expression turned to one of surprise as her face morphed into a bright smile as she approached Clay.

"Mr. Spenser, I'm Shirley, your nurse."

Clay tensed recognizing the voice. "Hi."

"Simons will be along shortly with a wheelchair. I recall you like warm showers. We have a hydrotherapy bath on this floor, and I do believe a warm soak will ease your stiff muscles and do wonders for your shoulder."

A grin crossed Clay features. "Sounds fantastic."

"Now, it won't be as long a soak as you might want … with your abrasions too long in the water won't be good for you. Sit tight for a few more moments and Simons will come to get you and I'll have your warm bath ready by the time you arrive."

Shirley turned and peered at the exhausted man in the chair. "Master Chief, you need rest. I have been informed an MP is now stationed outside the door, so you can rest easy. No one without authorization will be admitted to this room."

"MP?" Jason asked.

"By order of Lieutenant Commander Blackburn. I'm not entirely aware of the situation, but he wanted me to inform you." As the door opened again, Shirley's stern countenance returned. "Simons, you will use extreme care in moving the patient to the chair."

"Yes, ma'am. Not a hair on his head will be out of place." Simon Simons' voice revealed the nurse intimidated him. He moved forward to the SEAL. Scuttlebutt indicated one of his own left him on the last mission … and he hoped if it was true the man would spend his life in prison for doing something so terrible. "Hi again, Clay. We're going for a little ride to the shower room."

Clay scooted to the edge of his bed, holding in his groan. "Hi, Simon. Let's get this show on the road."

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Hydrotherapy Room**_

Clay sighed, relaxing in the warm water. Not one to usually soak in a tub, the light massage of the swirling, jetted water soothed his aching muscles, especially his shoulder.

Simon sat on the stool, keeping watch, per Shirley's instructions. She had grabbed him as he came out of the breakroom and he thought for sure he had done something wrong. Luckily, she only wanted him to get a wheelchair and meet her in Spenser's room to take him to the shower room. He scurried to do her bidding, not wanting to earn her wrath.

"I think Nurse Shirley has a soft spot for you, Clay."

"Why do you say that?"

"Cause I can't think of a single time I've ever seen her smile since I've been stationed here. Except when she was talking to you just now. And normally it is the physiotherapists who order the whirlpool baths. I do believe she is smitten with you."

Clay chuckled. "Fine by me if it means this little bit of heaven. Is there soap … can I wash my hair? Still feels sandy."

"Sure. Hold out your hand, and I'll pour a little in and then spray your hair to wet it."

As he held out his hand, Clay asked, "Do you think you could round me up some PJ pants or scrubs bottoms. Not a fan of having my ass on display if I'm allowed to go for a stroll."

"I'm not supposed to leave you alone." Simon pulled the sprayer, tested the temperature and wetted Clay's hair, careful not to get the bandages covering his eyes wet.

"Isn't the linen supply close by? I'll promise not to do anything but scrub my head. I'll even wait for you to rinse, so my bandages stay dry."

"Okay. I'll only be a few seconds. But if Shirley finds you alone—"

Clay interjected, "I've got your back. This is all my idea, and I'll make sure she knows." He began a slow scrub one-handed, his sprained wrist released from the brace and currently resting in his lap. He counted his blessings that his injured wrist and shoulder were on the same side, otherwise, he would be dependent on others for too many things until one or the other mended.

Simon stepped out and entered the supply closet next door. He groaned when he didn't find any scrubs or PJ pants … only more gowns, socks, and sheets. He grabbed a pair of non-slip socks and hurried down the hall to the second supply room.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Room 316**_

Blackburn strode into Trent and Clay's room after a quick word with the MP standing guard, not expecting to be back so soon. His eyes landed on Jason, pleased to see him sleeping, and hating to have to wake him with bad news.

His eyes moved to Trent's bed as he entered, finding him snoozing as expected. Trent was helped along by heavy-duty pain meds and his body's reaction to the trauma he experienced. Three gunshot wounds, thankfully none striking in critical areas. Their best medic would be out for some time, but the doctor said he would recover fully and return.

Shifting his gaze to Clay's bed, he scrunched his face … the kid wasn't there. As he strode to the restroom, not hearing any movement, but also knowing the MP would've told him if Clay wandered out by accident, the room's door opened again, admitting Ray and Sonny.

Blackburn pivoted, and louder than he intended snapped, "Where's Spenser?"

Startled awake, Jason blinked open his eyes, noting the worried expression on Eric, the pained one on Ray as his best friend shifted, likely hurting, and Sonny's angry mien when he chuckled, Jason said, "Relax, the kid is only in the shower room soaking in a tub."

Ray and Sonny relaxed, but Eric tensed. "Where is that room?"

"Why?"

Moving to the door, Eric threw over his shoulder, "I got a call from security. Someone spotted Clayton entering the hospital through the loading docks, but they lost him. The kid might be his target."

Three Bravo members rushed out after Blackburn.

* * *

 **Chapter 11: Splish-Splash Dangers of Taking a Bath**

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Hydrotherapy Room**_

They say when one sense is taken away, other senses compensate. Clay wasn't sure that was true or could happen in less than twenty-four hours, but upon hearing the door push open several moments after Simon left, he said, "You're speedy. I'm about done scrubbing my hair."

Silence and footfalls coming closer met his words. A spidey-sense it was not Simon began to creep in, and he wondered if Nurse Shirley was now glaring at him. As he lowered his hand in the water to rid himself of slippery soap and provide himself a little modesty, Clay started to defend Simon's absence, "I'm the one who asked Simon to gra—"

His words abruptly halted as the simultaneous contact on the top of his skull and previously dislocated shoulder sent shards of pain rippling through him. Strong hands pushed him down and under the water. He barely got a deep breath in before his face plunged under. Clay grabbed at the arm holding his head, clawing at the skin trying to grip it and yank it from him. The person's fingers seized his curls and held fast pushing with great force.

Kicking his feet, splashing water out of the tub, and striving to twist away, every muscle became taut, coiling for action. Unable to gain purchase on the slippery sides and bottom, he continued to struggle to get out of the grasp holding him under. Clay's lungs burned for air as adrenaline rushed through him, and though counterintuitive to what his body wanted, to rise and be where air was plentiful, he let his body go limp, sliding further under the water.

His strategy worked in taking his attacker off balance, more of the person's upper body would be forward of the center of gravity. He waited only a fraction of a second longer, Clay channeled all his strength and surged up as he wrenched the arm gripping his head. Pain shot through his shoulder again as the assailant squeezed and pushed.

But fortunately, his tactic worked enough for him to suck in a gulp of air before he was forced down again. Though muted through the water surrounding his ears, Clay recognized who tried to drown him when he spoke.

"Drown already! You are the curse of Bravo … you cursed me, and you need to die," Spencer growled as he kept the blond who ruined everything below the surface.

Running out air and stamina, Clay tried once again to go limp and repeat his previous success, but this time Spencer was prepared and didn't fall for his tactic. Searing tightness seized Clay's chest, and his struggles lessened, not because he wanted too, but because lack of oxygen flowing through his brain robbed him of coordination and made him lightheaded. He started to fade, and his body reflexively took a breath, sucking in water.

"Hey, Clay, sorry I took lon … THE HELL!" Simons dropped the PJs and rushed at the man holding Clay's head under the water. Shouting, "HELP! NEED HELP. NOW!" he tackled him, slamming both into the far wall.

Startled by the return of the orderly, his back aching from being rammed into the wall, Spencer used his superior close combat skills and smashed the man's head into the floor, stunning him. He scrambled up and went for Clay as the source of all his problems clung to the side of the tub, sputtering and coughing. Spencer easily submerged Clay's head again, and a satisfied sneer which morphed into a smirk crossed his face.

His glory didn't last long as the door opened again and he was hit by a freight train, and hammered by a shower of fists … his head whipping back and forth as one after another strike turned him senseless in less than sixty seconds.

Simon roused during the onslaught … his comprehension slow to engage, but when he realized what was happening, he said, "Clay … is Clay alright?" He wiped blood dripping into his eye away, trying to see if Clay was above water. He collapsed back against the wall after he spotted the wet blond hair. His head spun with sickening speed, and as he grew nauseous, Simon had to close his eyes or he would spill his supper on the linoleum.

Ray and Blackburn pulled Jason off a bloody and unconscious Clayton. The master chief lost all control when they heard the yelling and burst in to find the coward drowning their kid. Jason breathed heavy, his rage still needing an outlet … he kicked the inert body wishing like hell he could beat him to death or strangle him. The piece of shit deserved to die.

Uncharacteristically, or perhaps more in character than anyone might believe, Sonny left the SOB to Jason and went straight for Clay. His arms went to support the kid, and his heart wrenched when Spenser jerked at his touch. "Simba, its Sonny. I got you, little buddy." He rubbed circles on Clay's back … like he did his nieces and nephews when the youngen's were upset.

As Clay relaxed into his arms, although in an awkward position, Sonny drew the kid into a secure embrace as Clay started to shiver … not caring one whit what others thought or that his shirt was getting soaked.

In short order, the MP and a nursing staff flooded into the small room to render aid. Sonny refused to let the nurse take Clay from him. His little brother still gasped for air and coughed, and his uninjured hand had twisted his wet shirt in a death grip. Blackburn finally stepped in and said, "Take care of the other two first. We'll move Clay as soon as he is ready."

"But he may have inhaled water, he needs treatment," Shirley stated, not liking to be ordered about on her watch.

"Bring a gurney to the door. We're SEALs and well-versed in what to do for water inhalation. We'll have him out of here shortly."

As Eric spoke to the nurse, Ray and Jason shifted their focus from Clayton to Spenser and went into action.

After she directed someone to bring a gurney, Shirley gaped, awestruck at the efficient work of the three men in getting her patient out of the tub with great care with regard to his injuries and toweled him dry … all while Clay continued to hold fast to the man who kept calling him, Simba and whispering soothing words.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Outside Room 316**_

Sonny continued to pace, somewhat wobbly as he became dizzy. His emotions swirled the drain for the past half-hour he had been forced to remain outside the room. Had he only listened to Ray in the kennels and come straight to the hospital to sit with Clay, he would've been in the shower room with him, and the shitiot couldn't have hurt his little brother. And a plus … he would've been in the prime spot and in shape to mete out payback when Spencer came into the room.

But he hadn't, he wasn't, and he didn't. And all that made him all mixed up. Coughing from the room stopped him near the door, his hand about to push it open, needing to find out how Simba fared after his near-drowning, but a hand prevented him.

"Wait. The doctor said to stay out here until he is finished. And if you don't listen, I'll zip-tie you to a chair." Ray was in charge of keeping Sonny corralled … again … while Blackburn dealt with the MPs and Clayton, and Jason was taken downstairs to the ER to have his hand x-rayed when his bloody hand started to swell. He likely busted a few knuckles when he struck Clayton's jaw repeatedly.

"I should've been with Simba."

"Yeah." Ray agreed, no question in his mind. He shifted his stance to one more comfortable to his groin.

Sonny turned, took a few steps, leaned against the wall, and sunk until he sat on the floor. "I screwed up, and he almost drowned. I let my emotions cloud my better judgment."

Taking a seat next to Sonny, Ray lay a hand on his thigh. "We're only human, Brother. This whole situation is a mess. If Spencer had been kept in custody, Cerb, Clay, you, me, and Jason wouldn't be in this sorry state. This is all Clayton's fault … all of it. On the bright side, there is no disputing Clayton tried to kill the kid, and he'll be charged with attempted murder at the very least."

Sonny released a mirthless chuckle. "And he won't be eating solids or breathing out of his nose for weeks. Never seen Jason lose his shit so completely."

"Whether Jason recognizes it or not, the kid is like a son to him. It was fatherly rage you saw … a primeval desire to protect one's own. It overrode all his training to remain detached. Not sure if that is a good thing … might spell the doom of this team."

Sonny turned surprised eyes to Ray. "They wouldn't split us up for this, would they?"

Ray sighed. "We aren't the typical SEAL team. Sure, others care about their teammates, but the bond we share could be disastrous in the field. Cause us to make poor choices clouded by emotions … be willing to sacrifice the many for one rather than limiting loses."

Rejecting the idea, Sonny shook his head. "No. Our bonds don't weaken or compromise us. They link us. Keep us safer. Allow us to understand what the others are thinking when the shit hits the fan and act as one heart and one mind in six bodies. They make us stronger … better … and are the reason we're the elite team of DEVGRU."

"The cake-eaters don't see it that way."

"Blackburn does, and he won't let them disband us."

"I hope not. But there will be repercussions for Jason's actions today. He nearly killed Clayton with his bare hands. Would've if me and Eric hadn't been able to pull him off."

"No loss if the coward died … would've saved the Navy the cost of a court-martial." Sonny closed his eyes, his head pounding non-stop. Slamming into a truck left him sore from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Tomorrow he might be too stiff to move. He would likely be as black and blue as the kid. When the door opened, he only peered up, along with Ray, both aching too much to stand at the moment.

Shirley exited, not surprised to find two of the four waiting. Her tone soft, she said, "You can come in now. Clay is sleeping, so please keep your voices low."

Ray stood and offered a hand to Sonny, helping his brother to his feet and noting him grimace. Turning to the nurse, Ray dug a piece of paper from his pocket and held it out to her. "Dr. Taylor in the ER prescribe this painkiller for Sonny, but we came up to check on Clay before going to the pharmacy to fill it. Would you be able to have it delivered here? Don't think Sonny is up to walking to the barracks at the moment." What he left unsaid was, _neither am I … I have a date with an ice pack on my swollen nuts._

Taking the slip, Shirley smiled. "Yes. I'll have an orderly bring in two more recliners. Will be a tight fit, but I can see none of you will be leaving anytime soon." She bustled down the hall toward the nurse's station to take care of those items and the orders from Clay's doctor.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – ER Treatment Area**_

Blackburn strode into Jason's treatment bay and noted one swollen hand immersed in an ice bath as a nurse cleaned the abrasions on the other. He cocked up an eyebrow. "X-rayed yet?"

"No, still waiting. Apparently, a shithead with a broken jaw and nose is a priority. He should be in the morgue," Jason groused, wanting to be upstairs with Clay.

"You don't mean that."

"The hell I don't. He left the kid to die in Simir, poisoned Cerb, then tried to drown Clay. He betrayed his oath … all of us … and why? Because he possessed some false sense, he is better than Clay and deserved to be on Bravo. He's fucking insane and needed to be put down."

"I wouldn't say the last too loud. He might try to use insanity as a defense," Eric half-joked, attempting to lower Jason's still simmering rage.

"All the more reason he should be six feet under. I swear if he walks—"

"Don't you dare voice your thought out loud, I'm dealing with enough shit as it is and don't need to add any more." Eric rubbed his temples, his headache growing.

With difficulty, Jason shoved his anger in his hip pocket and stared at Eric, noting the deep stress lines in his face. "Sorry for making your job more difficult than usual. What is going to happen to Clayton?"

Eric nodded, acknowledging the apology. "MPs have him under guard at the moment. NCIS will be here shortly to take statements from all the witnesses. Simon Simons will be the most critical and carry the most weight since he is impartial and tried to stop the attack."

"How is the orderly?" Jason's freezing hand was lifted from the ice bath, and the nurse began to clean the slowly oozing scrapes.

"Banged up. A lump the size of a goose egg on his forehead and he required seventeen stitches. Fortunately, Simons possesses a thick skull like Sonny, and he didn't suffer a fracture. Though, they are treating him for a mild concussion … he's still sick to his stomach."

"We owe him … he saved Clay."

Eric sighed. "According to the nurse, he wasn't supposed to leave Clay alone. He stepped out to grab the kid pants when Clay requested them. Not sure if Clayton would've tried attacked Spenser if Simons had been in the room."

Jason considered the notion and winced as his nurse moved his fingers. Yep, probably busted. He moved his mind back to the conversation. "I'm not so certain. Clayton had bloodlust in his eyes. He might've snuck in and snapped Simons' neck before going after Clay. He is a SEAL and capable of stealth and such actions. Going for pants might've saved Simons' life too."

Nodding Eric conceded the potential scenario and decided he needed to convey that to Nurse Shirley, so she didn't go too hard on Simons … because the guy was trying to do something nice for Clay and in truth saved the kid's life. "After you are done here, I suspect you will be up in Trent's and Clay's room."

"Yes."

"I'll send the NCIS agents up there to speak with each of you shortly. I'm going to the kennels to check on Cerb and tell Brock what occurred here." Eric started to leave, stopped, turned back to Jason, and added, "Jace, I'm not sure what repercussions are coming, but I'll do all in my power to keep your team together."

"I know … and thanks." Jason hissed as his finger moved again, glad when an orderly appeared, ready to take him to the x-ray department.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Kennels**_

A smile broke out on Eric's face as he strolled into the bathing area of the kennels. Brock's chuckle combined with the hair missile sitting in the stainless-steel tub, covered in suds did his heart good. The sight presented was one of joy between the handler and his dog. Cerb getting a bath and the laughter meant the pup must be doing much better.

Eric started snickering as Cerb shook and sprayed Brock with water and suds. "Splish-splash looks like you and Cerb are takin' a bath."

Brock pivoted and grinned at Blackburn. "Cerb's feeling a bit better, and I wanted to clean him up. He loves baths."

"I can see." Eric's grin slightly faded as he thought Clay must've been enjoying his bath before Clayton arrived. "What did the vet find?"

Brock turned back to Cerb, rubbing him as he ensured all the stench of vomit was removed as he said, "Samantha found a large quantity of dark chocolate powder mixed into his food. Chocolate is highly toxic to dogs."

Eric nodded. "It contains a substance which interrupts their metabolic processes, right?"

"Yeah, and dark chocolate is the most dangerous. If Cerb had ingested more, besides suffering an upset stomach and vomiting, he could've experienced seizures, heart problems, and even death." Brock reached for the handheld sprayer to rinse his dog. "Cerb will be on a special diet for a while, and not allowed to work until his system fully recovers."

Eric stepped forward and scratched Cerb behind the ears where he liked it most. "I'm happy he is doing better. Did the vet indicate how long?"

"She wants him to rest for at least two or three weeks."

"Alright, guess he will be rehabbing with Trent, Clay, Sonny, Ray, and Jason."

Brock turned in surprise when three other members of his team were mentioned. Unfortunately, he forgot to release the trigger for the water and ended up spraying Eric in the face. "Oh, shit. Sorry." Brock's eyes widened, not believing he just soaked the lieutenant commander.

Eric burst out laughing, the tension of the day broken by a shower of water. He swiped his face and grabbed for one of the towels on the shelf.

"What happened to the guys? Sonny roared out of here, hellbent on finding the coward and showing him his fist repeatedly." Brock resumed rinsing away the suds but halted when Eric began to tell him what happened. He sucked in a breath upon learning Clay almost drown and another sharp intake when Blackburn shared how Jason was the one, not Sonny to beat the shit out of Spencer.

"I can't believe Sonny showed restraint. Figured with how he stormed out he would be the one with a busted-up hand."

"Well, he might've if he hadn't been hit by a truck."

"WHAT?" Brock dropped to the stool next to the sink.

Eric related the full chain of events and finished as he said, "NCIS will be by soon to speak to you and the kennel master. Is there anything you need for yourself or Cerb?"

Cerb whined and pawed at Brock's sleeve. They met gazes, and though Brock was still processing all Blackburn shared, he replied, "I'm good, but there is a shirt on Cerb's bed in the barracks … he will want that tonight."

"Okay. I'll send it over if I can't bring it myself. I'll let you finish Cerb's bath so he can rest." Eric laid the towel on the edge of the bathing sink, patted Cerb's head, patted Brock's shoulder and turned to leave, wondering why Cerb would want a specific shirt.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Bravo Barracks**_

Eric stooped to pick up the shirt on Cerb's pad at the foot of Brock's bed. The answer to his quandary about why Cerb would want this particular shirt answered as he spied the 6B9 printed on the sleeve. He chuckled and decided to deliver it himself before going and checking on their kid.

Never had Eric commanded such a tight-knit group of sailors. Clay Spenser changed Bravo for the better when he joined. He challenged and brought out the best in his teammates and himself. Bravo gave Clay something he desperately needed too … a caring family. Clay was the Blessing of Bravo … not the curse.

He sincerely desired to keep Bravo together for all their sakes, but Jason's action today put that in jeopardy. As a master chief, the leader of a team, Jason was held to a high standard and expected to maintain a level head in any situation. Striking the man and then restraining him would've been appropriate, whereas beating him senseless and only stopping because he was pulled off before he killed him, is where the problem lay. Jason losing his cool would be heavily scrutinized. The brass might question Jason's ability to effectively command after such a reaction.

Eric would do his utmost to protect Jason's position and the entire team. Each SEAL on their own were prime assets, but together, these six men outperformed all other DEVGRU teams … and he hoped at the end of the day that counted for something.

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Sympathetic Insight and Sight**

 _ **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Room 316**_

Sonny eschewed the recliner, preferring to sit in the uncomfortable plastic chair closer to Clay's bed, within contact distance. The hardest thing he had done in the last two hours was prying the kid's fingers from his shirt when the doctor had told them to leave after wheeling him in here from the shower room. The second most difficult was staying outside the room when his little brother coughed and gasped, the distressing sounds tore at him, and he berated himself for not coming directly here from the kennels.

The somewhat peaceful countenance now belied Clay's struggle to maintain an appropriate level of oxygen saturation. Mostly, Sonny kept his eyes on the fogging of the mask caused by every labored breath, and only shifted them on occasion to read the SpO2 percentage which still hovered near ninety-five even with the high-flow of supplemental oxygen.

Upon being allowed to enter, the doctor explained more than Sonny ever wanted to hear about drowning, and most of the medical jargon would require Trent's translation at some point. But when he asked if Clay might suffer secondary drowning, Sonny got an earful from said doctor about there being no such thing. With emphasis, the smug doctor stated the medical definition of drowning is the process of experiencing respiratory impairment from submersion or immersion in liquid, and drowning has only three possible outcomes, death, survival with injury or illness, or survival with no injury or illness.

 _'Well, no shit Sherlock!'_ is what he said at the time, much to the doctor's annoyance. Sonny didn't give a rat's ass how they classified what happened to Clay, the fact remained, his little brother inhaled water and now struggled to breathe as a result. His shortness of breath and wheezing were tangible signs of respiratory distress, which might turn into pneumonia or worse. Sonny hated viewing the many leads and corresponding wires plastered to the kid's godawful black and blue chest which ran to a machine providing constant cardiac telemetry.

When Clay coughed again and became agitated in his sleep, Sonny's hand snaked over Clay's and squeezed. "Easy, Simba, easy. I'm right here. Not going anywhere." A sigh escaped Sonny as Spenser settled, and a slight uptick of the corners of his lips indicated Clay's reaction pleased him … happy his presence calmed his brother.

Sonny shifted his gaze when the door slowly opened. His sore body tensed, preparing to defend Clay, although he was aware Spencer Clayton was two floors up, secured to his bed by shackles and two MPs stood watch, one inside Spencer's room, and one outside Clay's and Trent's.

Jason strolled in, his time in the ER extended as more urgent cases came in and required the staff's immediate attention. A group of intoxicated sailors on shore leave accidentally set their rented sailboat on fire resulting in severe burns and complications arising from smoke inhalation, so a couple of dislocated knuckle joints got shoved to the back burner.

He stopped at Trent's bed, noting he still slept. When their medic finally woke from his drug-induced slumber, he would likely be stunned by the turn of events. Moving to Clay's bed, he nodded in greeting to Ray, who sat with a cold pack in his lap. "How is he?"

Sonny gazed at Jason's splint, which kept all four fingers and his wrist immobile. "Holding his own. What about you?"

"Two broken knuckles. Gonna be wearing this for several weeks, but I'm fine. NCIS been up?"

"Not yet," Ray answered. "Not sure what's taking so long. Blackburn said they would be here shortly and that was hours ago."

"Spoke to Eric before I came up. He said Cerb is doing a bit better. He'll be off-duty a few weeks too." Jason went on to explain what the vet found and the fact Brock would be staying with Cerb while his dog was under the vet's care and would likely not be coming to visit until Cerberus was healthy enough to leave the kennels.

"Brock's where he needs to be," Sonny stated. None of them would begrudge Reynolds for staying with the hair missile.

Jason moved to one of the recliners, needing to rest, his exhaustion visible in his red eyes, shuffling walk, and haggard features. Leaning back, he shut his eyes and propped his injured hand on a pillow, thankful for the pain reliever the ER doctor gave him. The three men slipped into a companionable silence; no words needed at this time while they waited for the NCIS agent to show up.

Fighting his way up the deep pit, Trent found himself in a confusing world of swirling colors, sounds, and pain. Blinking several times, trying to focus, his lids finally remained up. His side and shoulder throbbed as if on fire, and it took him a moment to recall he had been shot.

Although the dimness of the room indicated it must be night, Trent wondered if the shades had been pulled. He continued to stare at the ceiling, not really in any shape or having any desire to move a single muscle, yet his mouth seemed to be filled with cotton, and he desperately wanted something to drink. His voice sounded hoarse and husky as he requested, "Water, please."

Ray bolted out of his chair, a motion he regretted as he winced, but reaching the plastic pitcher, he poured a small amount in the cup and stuck the bendy straw in it. "Only sips."

Sucking in water and letting it swish around, Trent's gaze turned to Jason who appeared on the opposite of Ray, and his brows scrunched together seeing his splinted hand. His tongue pushed out the straw. "Hurt?"

"Minor. You in pain?" Jason brushed aside his own pain, glad to see Trent awake and speaking.

"Some. Morphine pump?"

"Yes. Want a dose?" When Trent gave a slight nod, Ray pressed the button then set it within Trent's reach. "For later. Brother, you gave us quite a scare. Three holes are three too many."

"Sorry. Clay … did you … get him? Is he … alive?"

"The kid's right over here, Trent," Sonny said as he stood … slowly. He rethought his decision to go to Trent's beside as every muscle reminded him how stupid he had been to sprint around a corner without checking for vehicles, and he sat again.

Trent turned towards Sonny's voice and his medic brain engaged through the fog. "His status?"

"He's in capable hands," Ray attempted to reassure Trent, who was never truly happy with any doctor except Dr. Irving.

"Not … what … I … asked," Trent ground out as he shifted a little to see Clay better and caused his pain to spike. His eyes took in the strapped arm and bandaged eyes, but he focused on the heart monitor and the SpO2 readout.

"Easy, Trent," Jason lay his hand on Trent's uninjured shoulder.

"O-two not good, should be higher. What happened? Shot? Eyes?" He licked his dry lips.

"Take a few more sips, and we'll tell you what occurred." Ray positioned the straw for Trent again.

"Okay. Spill it. How bad is he?" Trent blinked several times fighting the pull to return where nothing hurt. His lashes dropped down. "Short version."

Jason opened his mouth to start when a light rap on the door preceded its opening, and the MP poked his head in. "Master Chief Hayes, NCIS Supervising Agent DiNozzo is here."

"Let him in." Jason raked a hand through his hair as Trent's eyes snapped open. "Whatever you miss, Trent, we'll fill in later."

A tall, athletic agent with a bright smile and keen green eyes took in the state of the men he needed to interview. By reputation, he singled out the leader of the SEAL team. "Master Chief, I'm Tony DiNozzo. I need you, Senior Petty Officer Perry, and Petty Officer Quinn to come with me, please. I've arranged conference rooms on this floor."

Jason shook his head. "I'm not leaving my men."

"I ain't going nowhere Simba isn't," Sonny declared.

Tony and his agents had already taken statements from everyone else. The hospital staff, the MP, Bravo's support team, Petty Officer Reynolds, the kennel master, Lieutenant Commander Blackburn, and Petty Officer Clayton. He waited to do these three, and Spenser last, hoping to have enough collaborating details where he might bend the rules slightly, but not enough to jeopardize the discovery process.

"I'll make a slight concession. If two of you wait outside, I'll conduct the interviews here. That way, one of you is always in here, and the other two are right outside the door should your presence be required." Tony waited, judging their reactions. Quinn, the Texan, surely didn't want to leave, he would be as stubborn as a bull, but likely follow Hayes' directions. Perry, the second in command, readily agreed, seeing and accepting the compromise. Hayes, he simply appeared worn to a frazzle and nodded as he indicated he would go first.

"Jace, … where's Brock, Cerb?" Slow on the uptake due to the meds, Trent only now realized two of the team were missing.

Returning his attention to Trent. "Relax. Both are okay. Brock is with Cerb in the kennels. The hair missile needs some TLC, but the vet says he'll be okay."

"Vet? Jesus, what the hell did I miss?"

Tony understood from his interview with Blackburn that Sawyer would be unaware of the events, having been shot in their hasty exfil. "I'll give you a moment to give him a brief recount, while I set up and the other two can step out."

Grasping the back of one of the chairs, Ray started for the door, but Sonny stayed put. Ray halted, waiting for Sonny and he grinned as the soft teddy bear inside of Sonny came out.

Sonny leaned close to Clay, his voice smooth and calm, although he was anything but tranquil leaving the kid's side. "Simba, I'm gonna be right outside. Jace and Trent are in here with you. They won't let anything happen to you. I'll be back shortly."

As he started to move away, Clay's hand reached out and snagged his shirt sleeve, holding on with surprising strength. _Aw shit! I can't pry his hand off again … not again._ Sonny lay his hand over Clay's. "Are you awake, kid?" He waited for a reply, hating that gauze concealed his eyes. "Clay?"

When Clay didn't answer and didn't let go, Sonny peered over at Jason. "I can't leave him. Not prying the kid's hand from me a second time."

DiNozzo silently observed the interplay between the men as the team leader moved to Spenser and tried to solve the dilemma by speaking soft words to reassure the blond sailor. Hayes wasn't quite as gruff as Gibbs … couldn't be because he didn't have an extra b in his name which stood for bastard. But shades of what he recalled when Gibbs came to his room when he had the plague could be seen in the way Hayes spoke to Spenser and brushed at his hair.

Memories of long ago and far away rushed in. People who had been important in his life … those he lost. He would give anything to turn back the hands of time and be back in D.C. with Gibbs when he, Kate, Abby, Ducky, and Probie worked together … return to his life in Camelot before everything went to shit after Ari killed Kate.

Tony comprehended what being part of a well-oiled team was like. One which became his family. How he would do anything to save anyone of them. How his heart ripped to shreds when he stood on that rooftop, laughing one moment with Gibbs and Kate, and the next his face splattered with her blood and she was gone … stripped away from him in a heartbeat.

Nothing was quite the same after Kate died. They lost their spark, and the slow spiral down began. Her death had been the first crack which eventually destroyed everything Tony loved and everything since had been muted and mere imitations and illusions of what he once had. What he cherished and now missed as he went through the motions after his transfer to the Roto office to lead his own team.

So, Tony sympathized and recognized with perfect clarity what he was witnessing, and he didn't want the magic of this team to disappear. Although he shouldn't, Tony cleared his throat and said, "Stay. Everyone stay. I've gotten enough evidence from all the other sources to prove Petty Officer Clayton attempted to murder Petty Officer Spenser. Your statements will not affect the outcome one way or the other, so stay."

Sonny grinned, his hand going over Clay's. "Hear that? I'm not goin', Simba." His smile grew as the tension seemed to ebb out of Clay's body, and although his grip lessened a little on his sleeve, the kid didn't let go.

Everyone took seats, and the interview process began. Trent struggled to remain awake to hear everything, though his mind drifted a few times to a sanctuary from his pain. He couldn't believe the series of events which befell his team. Clay's initial and subsequent injuries. Cerb poisoned. Ray kicked by Sonny as he tried to keep him from doing something stupid. Sonny hit by a truck. Jason busting up his hand while beating the shit out of Clayton. He almost believed he hallucinated some of it … but physical evidence didn't lie.

In the last hour, Tony ran through the entire scenario with the three sailors. He shut his folder as he peered at Spenser. "Thank you. When Spenser is up to it, I'll need to take his statement as well. But as I said before, we have enough to convict Clayton of attempted murder with the tub incident and poisoning the dog."

"How can you prove it was him who put the dark chocolate in Cerb's food?" Ray asked.

Tony stood and preparing to go, shared a few findings, "Once Sergio, the kennel master, calmed he recalled the surveillance cameras installed last year. He provided footage of Clayton dumping a bag into Cerberus' dish and stirring it around. I only wish we had solid evidence to lay the Article 99 charges."

Having entered and overheard the last sentence, Eric strode forward with an envelope. "Ask, and you shall receive."

"Blackburn?"

Eric handed the file to DiNozzo. "After we spoke, Ms. Ellis and I went back to review all the satellite imagery from the night of the operation. In my attempt to locate my men when comms went down, I managed to persuade them to reposition a satellite. Although it didn't help me at the time, since Bravo had already rescued Spenser, these photos corroborate his statement of events."

Interested, they all gathered around as DiNozzo flipped open the folder to view the images.

Eric tapped the top one. "This shows thirteen insurgents dead in the field, which was exfil pos B."

Tony went to the next photo.

"This is zoomed in on one tango. Note the missing eye and slit throat as well as the scimitar lying next to the dead man. All correspond to Clay's report." Eric turned to the next one. "An this is a close up of tire tracks which Ms. Ellis' analysts will testify as matching the vehicle driven by Clayton, and note the area with disturbed gravel."

"The coward … spun out … and left … me," a raspy, breathless voice said.

Everyone whipped their heads to Clay's bed. Jason strode over and resettled the oxygen mask on the kid's face. "Keep this on."

"He tried … to drown … me … like Ashhole." Clay's mask fogged up with the words.

"Shhhh, Simba. No talking. He ain't gettin' away with any of it." Sonny smiled, glad to eliminate possible brain damage from lack of oxygen … the kid spoke and remembered what happened.

"Got one … question?" Clay gazed at Sonny.

"Okay, one only for now," Jason said.

"Did I … really hear … Flight of … the Valkyries?" Clay coughed several times and wheezed as he tried to recover enough air.

"Yes, you did." Sonny launched into how he discovered the CD in the stereo and decided to use it as a distraction when they made their assault.

Tony gathered the evidence and slipped out without another word as the four men gathered around the two beds. He sighed and wished his family was still together … like Bravo's.

* * *

 _ **Four Days Later** **–** **Rota, Spain – Naval Hospital – Room 316**_

Tension filled the room as Jason, Sonny, Ray, Brock, and Eric stood against the wall, their gazes centered on Clay's bed. Trent also turned his head in that direction after inclining his bed a bit more to view the kid as Shirley dimmed the lights. Today would be the day of truth … the potential of which they all blatantly refused to discuss.

"Mr. Spenser, keep your eyes shut until I tell you to open them." Dr. Veach reminded his patient. When he had been called in five days ago, he had his work cut out for him when he discovered the amount of sand and grit particles in this sailor's eyes. His corneas had been scratched by the sand and his eyes natural defense mechanism set in, making it near impossible to separate Spenser's lids to bathe the eyes with a sterile solution. He had to sedate him to relax the muscles.

Clay's fingers curled in the sheet, worried that if his sight was impaired, his days of an operator would be over. Over the past few days, as his labored breathing eased. Luckily, avoiding pneumonia, he no longer worried about his lungs preventing his return. However, his lack of sight remained a constant reminder of what he might lose.

He sucked at being blind. He stubbed his toes and knocked things over too many times on trips to the bathroom. And once he ran smack dab into the doorjamb when he acted like an idiot and eschewed Sonny's help. The Texan laughed his ass off and told him it served him right for being a stubborn mule.

Clay had to concede he had been a full-fledged jackass occasionally, but thoughts of never seeing again drove him to act out a few times, especially when it came to eating. After several unsuccessful attempts to spoon up peas one night, he ended up throwing his plate. He was sorry his dish smacked Brock who was sleeping in the chair.

After Jason laid into him, which seemed like a lecture from a pissed off dad, the guys made sure all his meals excluded foods which could roll away. In fact, most everything except the raspberry sherbet Brock kept supplying him with became finger foods … sub sandwiches, carrot sticks, chips … which made it much easier to eat one-handed. And his beverages always had covers on them, so he didn't spill them after knocking over several sodas and cups of water the first couple of days.

His brothers took care of him and Trent, someone always in the room to lend a hand to either one of them. Last night, Brock snuck Cerb in for a short visit too. Both he and the hair missile enjoyed a snuggle. It still made Clay sick to his stomach to think Clayton poisoned Cerb … and was glad the pup didn't scarf down his food as he usually did, or he might be gone now.

As the tape and patches were removed from his eyes, Clay sucked in a breath. He became anxious and his stomach somersaulted while waiting for the doctor to give him the okay.

"Alright. Now, I'm going to shield your left eye first, and I want you to open both. Things might be blurry, to begin with, so don't panic if your vision isn't clear." Veach held a shield to one eye.

Clay fisted his hand in the sheet and twisted, scared to open.

Silently moving forward, Jason covered Clay's hand with one hand, and the other rested on his shoulder. "Whatever the result is, we will be here for you."

"We won't abandon you, brother," Ray murmured just loud enough for Clay to catch.

Trent swallowed the lump in his throat. Give him a gunshot wound, and he could help, but eyes were out of his league, so he waited with bated breath, the suspense killing him and hoping the kid could see.

Sonny remained quiet. His little brother's struggles over the last five days left him an emotional wreck. A single call to Davis helped him some, but he couldn't dismiss the dread that had settled in the pit of his stomach. It was the same as when the bomb in Manila almost took his brother away.

"I can always train you a seeing-eye dog," Brock quipped to break the tension.

Clay chuckled, not sure why those few words gave him the courage to open. Bit by bit, his lashes lifted. Though slightly blurry, the first thing he spied was Sonny's somber expression. He grinned and spoke Swahili, "Hakuna matata, Pumbaa."

Sonny's face split into a grin. "Who ya calling Pumbaa?"

"You … if you insist on calling me Simba, then you're Pumbaa."

Trent laughed with relief. "Sonny sure smells like a warthog."

The ophthalmologist stifled a chuckle as the sailors devolved into a session of razzing one another. He let it go on for several minutes, before interrupting the stress-relieving activity. "Alright. So. You have sight in your right eye. Let's check the left." He shifted the shield.

A soft sigh emitted before Clay said, "Fuzzier than the other, but I can see."

Veach lowered the shield. "Good. The blurriness should diminish in a day or two. But for several weeks, keep the lights low, and wear sunglasses when exposed to sunlight. I'll check back in before you are released and schedule a full exam. But I believe it is safe to say, your corneas will recover and your vision will be fully restored."

"Thanks, Doc," Clay said as he peered at each one of his brothers for the first time in days, taking in their tired countenances, grateful for all they had done for him. One heart … six bodies … my brothers.

After the doctor and nurse left, Sonny moved to Clay's bed. "We got more good news today."

"What?"

"The coward is officially being charged with Article 99 among others and is being shipped stateside to a pre-trial confinement facility in Connecticut today, and …" Sonny turned to Jason, who gave him a slight nod indicating he could share. "Bravo is still intact. Blackburn said Captain Harrington and Admiral Droit were swayed by Agent DiNozzo's report not to take any action against Jason for losing his cool."

Clay blinked, his eyes watering, he would claim if anyone asked, that it was due to just being uncovered after almost a week, but in truth, they were evidence of the relief which surged through him. "What did the report say?"

Jason shook his head. "No clue. Eric isn't privy to the contents, nor are we. But whatever it contained was enough to sway the cake-eaters not to split us up. We are also staying in Spain instead of returning stateside. Mandy is building a target package for IIB and el-Sylla, and once we're cleared for duty, we'll be running with Alpha to track them down."

"Good." Clay leaned back and shut his eyes as his smile remained. He would be back with his family. Somehow, he beat the odds again … and Atropos had not used her shears to sever his life-thread yet. He hoped the Three Sisters of Fate measured out a long thread for him and his brothers.

* * *

 **Chapter 13: Stir-Crazy, Switzerland, and Sorrow**

 _ **Six Weeks Later – Rota, Spain – Bravo Barracks**_

Sitting cross-legged on his bunk, Clay slapped down his card, sick of playing solitaire, reading books, sitting on the sidelines, and doing absolutely nothing of importance for the past two weeks. The only thing of any value he had done in the last six weeks was testifying at Spencer's court-martial. Each of them reported to NCIS headquarters, and when called by the lawyers, Agent DiNozzo escorted them to the MTAC conference room, where they testified via a secure video feed.

What Clay wanted to be doing was going with Alpha, Ray, Sonny, Brock, and Cerb to round up more IIB sect leaders. He was still not cleared for duty, though his shoulder, wrist, and lungs seemed fine to him. While he languished here, rehabbing with Trent and Jason, the others brought in five mid-level leaders.

He glanced over at Jason, his team leader going as stir-crazy as he and Trent. Hayes' inability to do more than sit in Havoc and help plan the mission strategy made him irritable and turned him into a snapping turtle … or great white shark depending on the situation. Clay tried to smooth things over when Jason became snippy, feeling responsible in a way for Jason's injury.

Clay still couldn't believe Jason went to town on Spencer's face, breaking the man's nose and jaw. But a space in his heart and mind clung to the fact Jason would risk his career to save him … something his own father never would've done.

Wanting to relieve his boredom, Clay said, "Can we go to the bar tonight?"

"I'm in if Jace is cool with it." Trent lifted his eyes from his medical textbook, brushing up on things with all his spare time. Rehab for his shoulder didn't take up near enough hours in his day to keep him from being antsy to be out there with the rest of the guys. Although his daily siestas seemed to help pass the time … and sadly, he needed them after his PT sessions. Getting shot sucked, and he had a renewed appreciation for all the work Clay put into returning to them after Manila, Tibet, Mexico, Ecuador, Australia … hell even Argentina.

Jason turned to his other two cellmates … or so it seemed. Blackburn was being a stickler that he didn't return to active duty until he finished the mandatory rehab for his hand. As far as he was concerned, he had regained full use last week, but the doctor still wouldn't clear him for duty and Jason didn't understand why.

"Depends on whether I'll be in Havoc or not." Jason's eyes communicated without words that Clay better not try to talk him into allowing him to go alone or with Trent only. He walked a fine line of being overly protective of Spenser and relenting just enough to keep the kid from doing something stupid again.

The door opened and in walked Ray, Sonny, Cerb, Brock, and Eric, all wearing huge smiles. Blackburn stopped next to Clay and said, "We received some great news."

"What? I'm cleared to return?" Clay asked, hoping.

"Well, not that great, but something you will be interested in hearing." Eric glanced at Jason and returned his focus to Clay. "The panel deliberated taking in all the testimony from you and the others, along with the corroborating evidence and have returned a verdict. Captain Harrington called to inform me Clayton was convicted on all counts. He will be spending the next twenty years in prison."

Clay smiled. "A reason to celebrate. So, Jace, the bar?"

"Eric, do we have a mission tonight?" Jason asked.

"No. Mandy is still interrogating the latest detainee. Details she's gathered so far indicate it will take several weeks to determine the next target. As such, I'm standing down Alpha and Bravo for a one-week R and R. You are allowed to leave the base and Spain, but you need to stay in Europe." He turned to Ray. "Sorry, no stateside visits."

"Understood. Naima isn't expecting me home for several months anyway." As much as he missed his wife and kids, Ray understood. It was rare to be given any break during a deployment, so he would be happy with a little downtime.

Turning back to Jason, Eric grinned. "By then you should be cleared for active duty, and Clay too." Shifting his gaze to Trent, "And you'll be a week closer."

The mood light, the guys decided to go to the Sorry Sailor to celebrate.

* * *

 _ **Rota, Spain – Lo Siento Marinero Pub**_

Clay returned to the table with the next round of beer, having been allowed to go alone to get the pitchers. The guys refrained from being overly in his face, and treated him as an equal rather than a child, though they did razz him by warning him what would happen if he snuck off with another woman without telling them. His good mood couldn't be ruined … not after what Blackburn shared earlier.

He took his seat and poured beer for Sonny, Trent, and himself as Brock took the second pitcher and poured for the others. "So, did we decide where we're going?"

"Why not stay here … senoritas, sailing, sun, and sand … perfect vacation spot." Trent lifted his mug and took a swig.

Clay grimaced. "I'm sick of sand."

"Betcha are." Sonny leaned back and chewed on his toothpick. "Where do you want to go?"

"Someplace not sandy … not hot."

Simon, who Clay invited to join them tonight to thank him for saving his life, suggested, "How about the Swiss Alps? My wife and I love to go to Zermatt in southern Switzerland. You can ski year-round, and in summer there are great trails for hiking. My sister-in-law is a travel agent, and she can get you smoking deals on flights, train tickets, and hotels. Also on any rental gear, you guys might need. Doubt you came with winter apparel or skis."

Clay's eyes lit up. "Never been to the Alps … sounds perfect."

Jason and Ray shared a glance, noting the kid-like eagerness, neither could go against him, not after everything Clay had endured. Jason said, "Somewhere chilly fits the bill for me too."

"Brother, I'm in if the others are." Ray shifted his gaze and noted Trent and Brock were nodding … both also wanting to satisfy Clay's desire.

"Cerb loves to snowboard."

"Your dog snowboards?" Simon's gaze flicked to the dog sitting in the seat next to Brock, not quite certain how he managed to get the proprietor to allow Cerb to come in.

"Yep. Cerb's talented." Brock grinned and patted his pup.

Trent laughed. "I've got twenty that says Cerb is better at snowboarding than Sonny."

"Make it fifty, and I'll take you up on that." Sonny reached for his beer. "Might be raised in Texas, but spent a fair amount of time skiing in the Sierra Nevadas while stationed in San Diego."

For the next hour the guys discussed their plans, Simon called his sister-in-law who happily made the arrangements for them. By the time they headed back to the barracks, they were all set and excited to leave the next morning. What none of them noticed is they were the subject of a man's attention all evening. He grinned and pulled out his phone as he left the bar.

* * *

 _ **Glacial Express En Route to Zermatt, Switzerland**_

Jason relaxed in his seat on the train. They were on the last leg of their trip to Zermatt, which turned out to be car-free, so they chose to take a train ride instead of the shuttle bus. He couldn't keep the smirk from his face as he observed Clay holding court with several Swiss snow bunnies. Their kid impressed the blonde women by speaking French, which was one of four official languages spoken in Switzerland. His handsomeness probably had something to do with it too, but that wasn't something Jason typically thought about.

Ray nudged Jason. "Think were gonna see much of him in the next four days?"

"Think we're going to need to set some ground rules … check-in times and such."

A chuckle emitted from Trent. "Sonny won't be letting him out of his sight." He shifted, his shoulder aching and ready for a siesta, which he wouldn't get until after they checked into their bed and breakfast.

"That is if he can keep up," Brock chimed while surreptitiously watching Clay as Cerb snoozed on his lap.

"Yeah, the kid will give Sonny a run for his money." Jason settled back, looking forward to the mostly stress-free vacation ahead of them, though he did wonder how this came about. Bravo is on deployment, so this is unheard-of territory even given the injuries everyone suffered seven weeks ago.

He pondered who pulled strings because although Blackburn is good … great even … Jason doesn't believe Eric is the one who sent them off on holiday. If they had been given a specific destination, Jason's ever-vigilant mind could come up with several probable situations … like covertly pre-positioning them for an op. But because they were given free-reign to choose their location, the likelihood seemed rather slim.

Deciding to chalk it up to some cake-eater trying to ensure Bravo was well-rested before continuing to track down the IIB big hitters, Jason allowed his eyes to shut, knowing Sonny would keep an eye on the kid. He drifted to sleep, wishing he could've brought Emma and Mikey along on a vacation of a lifetime, but realizing they were where they wanted to be … Emma at Tish and the hockey school for Mikey.

The team's shadow sat several rows back silently making notes. To anyone around, he appeared to be a distinguish businessman with salt and pepper hair doing a bit of work. No one would suspect his real motive, particularly not his intended target.

He pulled up two photos. One snapped some time ago showing a blond, blue-eyed man beaten and swinging from a hook in Mexico. The last, only seven weeks old, showed him hanging by his wrists in Simir. He was a patient man, but soon he would strike, and vengeance would be his.

* * *

 _ **Three Days Later – Zermatt, Switzerland - Bed and Breakfast**_

Clay wandered into the dining room wearing yesterday's clothes. He sat next to Sonny and snagged a sausage from his plate as he grinned and tipped back on the back two legs.

"Look what the cat dragged back in," Sonny quipped as he grabbed for his sausage, but the little shit popped it into his mouth before he could retrieve it.

"Hope he doesn't have scratch marks on his back again." Trent eyed the kid who hadn't slept in his room a single night.

"Nah. Sofia was feisty but kept her claws sheathed." Clay gave them all a cocky grin and reached for another sausage, this time from Brock's plate, but the dog handler slapped his hand.

"Go grab your own plate." Brock slid his meal further away from Clay. He couldn't believe Spenser got lucky with several different women every night based on the number of little foil packets restocked by Trent each day. The kid was certainly sowing his oats and enjoying himself with many willing snow bunnies.

Spenser dropped his chair to all four legs and rose, going to the sideboard where the lady who ran this bed and breakfast laid out a self-serve buffet. He chose Bürli, a soft bread, strawberry jam, a few sausages, and poured coffee before returning to the guys. They discussed their plans for the day, more snowboarding for Clay, Sonny, and Brock, and skiing for Jason and Ray.

Trent decided on another quiet day with his book while sitting on the porch with a picturesque view of the Alps. He tried skiing the first day but swiftly realized his shoulder wasn't quite up to the rigors of hitting the slopes. Brock suggested Cerb might like to play bloodhound and spend a lazy day with Trent. They all saw through the thinly-veiled ruse, none of them wanting to leave Trent all alone. Trent accepted, and Cerb appeared happy with the decision.

After breakfast concluded, Clay trotted up to his room to shower, change, and grab his rented snowboard, eager for another day of fun. The others lingered over hot coffee as the rest of the tourists staying at the bed and breakfast came in, ate, and left for their planned activities, including a man with salt and pepper hair.

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland -** **Cable Car**_

His eagerness apparent to the others, they let Clay go first in line. Trying to hold the kid back was as useless as a sewing thimble for bailing out a sinking ship. The cable cars held twenty-eight people and took nine minutes to reach the summit. As soon as Clay stepped forward and into the car, the conductor put out a hand to stop the next person as he said, "Voll."

"Simba, get off … we'll go together on the next one," Sonny growled, understanding voll meant full but spotting three open seats. He didn't want to be separated from his little brother. Yeah, he was acting over-protective again, but Sonny couldn't stop himself after all the shit which had befallen the kid recently.

Clay turned, intending to comply but the doors shut in his face. He called out loudly, "I'll wait for you guys at the top."

After noting Sonny's less than pleased countenance, Clay moved forward and sat in an open seat, noting the other two. He supposed the guy who closed the doors must've lost count. The dude to his right who wore a dull blue jacket jostled him as he shifted his snowboard, knocking him into the person on his left.

Something stung his left arm, and Clay turned his head to peer at a man with black hair liberally sprinkled with white. He didn't see anything which would've poked him, so said, "Sorry for bumping you."

"No problem. Tight fit." He slipped his hand into his pocket and with ease, capped the needle of the syringe.

Halfway up the mountain, a floaty sensation caused Clay to sway in his seat, and within thirty seconds, he slumped over into the lap of the man to his left.

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland -** **Summit**_

Ray, Jason, Brock, and Sonny stepped out of their cable car and moved to the area where people donned their skis and prepared to go down the mountain. Scanning, they all searched for a bright orange jacket and a neon green knit cap. They selected the color to ensure Spenser was visible to them, and the kid begrudgingly agreed to wear them.

Finding a sea of blue, white, red, purple … hell, every color of the rainbow except orange, Jason barked, "Where's Spenser?"

Ray pointed to the slope. "There! On the black diamond trail."

They all spied the signature orange and green denoting their brother as he snowboarded down the most challenging path.

"He said he would wait. I'm gonna turn him over my knee and spank the shit—" the avalanche warning siren stopped Sonny's rant.

People screamed, pointed, stood, and watched in horror as snow raced down the mountain heading directly for the black diamond runs.

Sonny, Jason, Ray, and Brock stared, helpless to do anything, their hearts seizing as a wall of snow engulfed Clay and others. Not a speck of orange or green visible as the snow continued its destructive and deadly path.

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland -** **Cable Car Station**_

"Help, please," he called out when the doors opened to the chaotic scene at the bottom of the lift as most people were more interested in peering up at the speeding avalanche. He held in his smile as no one paid him any heed.

Slinging the arm of the semi-conscious man wearing a dull blue jacket over his shoulders and slipping his own arm around the blond's waist, he started walking. Things worked out exactly as he planned, and he couldn't care less about the loss of life because he gained his target. His patience paid off, and now, Spenser was his.

He would enjoy slowly and painfully seeking his vengeance. The other members of Bravo would not hinder him. They would believe Spenser to be dead and buried under a ton of snow. They would be right in one of those two assumptions. Eventually, Spenser would die, but his body would never be recovered.

Sofia Tanzer turned away from the horror before her … her heart broke for those caught in the unexpected avalanche. She took several steps to a bench and sank down. Last night with Clay had been fun, her trip here everything she anticipated until this tragedy. As the ski patrol raced past her, Sofia caught a glimpse of blond hair. She watched as a man half-carried the blond who appeared dunk.

Recognizing Clay, she rose and speculated if she incorrectly assumed he was drunk, especially given the early hour. She recalled his over-bearing buddies, and a sickening thought came to her. _Maybe he is overcome by emotions. What if his friends are buried under the snow?_

She started forward, thinking a friendly face might be helpful if Clay just lost his buddies. A throng of emergency personnel blocked her path as they surged towards the cable cars needing to get to the top of the mountain to begin the search and rescue efforts. By the time it was clear, she lost track of Clay. She spun in circles, scanning. "Where's Clay?"

* * *

 _ **Next Day – Zermatt, Switzerland - Bed and Breakfast**_

After more than twenty-four exhausting hours, five somber men and one sad dog traipsed into their lodgings. Once their initial shock wore off, Jason called Trent to bring Cerb … hoping he might be able to sniff out Clay. They offered to help in the search and rescue as did many skiers.

Too weary and devastated to manage the stairs to their rooms, they all took seats in the dining area. The first hour of searching they held out hope of finding Clay alive … by the sixth hour and countless dead bodies located, their hope dimmed. They persisted in digging where the ski patrol flagged a potential person, but each one they found … was not their brother.

Around hour seventeen, Sonny had gone off the deep end, ranting and raving at how the stupid kid should've waited for them and if he had, he would still be alive. His diatribe ended with him embraced by Jason as he sobbed, and ever since Sonny had been stoic and silent.

None of them wanted to believe they witnessed Clay die in such a senseless way. Such a mundane way for a Top Tier SEAL to meet his end … no blaze of glory as he saved the world … only a silent whisper encased in a frozen tomb. Sadly, they all held the same unspoken wish … that he died swiftly as the snow impacted him … perhaps a snapped neck.

If he survived the initial onslaught, and slowly ran out of air, that would be as bad as when Sonny was trapped in the sub tube. Actually worse, because Clay would've been all alone. None of his brothers there to say goodbye … to hear his last words.

Ray's eyes were red from both lack of sleep and tears he shed on the return here when the rescue teams sent them away … when they changed from rescuing to solely recovery efforts. He peered at the shattered faces and broke the silence. "Jace, we should call Blackburn."

A tick which had developed after Nate's death and diminished with time came back in full force as Jason rubbed his thigh. "Not calling yet."

"Why?" Ray focused on Jason, noting his glistening eyes and set jaw. They were all hurting … they lost a brother.

"Not until they find the kid."

"Jace, …" Ray swallowed the lump in his throat, "you heard the rescue leader. Clay's body may never be recovered."

Clenching his fists to stop rubbing his leg, Jason pinned his gaze on Ray.

"I'll call if you want," Ray offered.

"My job," Jason ground out. His mind couldn't … wouldn't accept Clay was gone. Not this way. Not after all the shit the kid survived.

When Cerb whimpered, Brock pulled him close, needing and giving comfort. Cerb would've made a great Saint Bernard. He found many people and saved many lives, but that was a hollow victory because they couldn't find the one they desperately wanted to locate.

Ray's head bowed, knowing he couldn't change Jason's mind at the moment, and he didn't have the strength or inclination to try. He sought solace in his faith as he prayed for Clay's soul, and help to deal with his grief.

His shoulder and heart aching, Trent glanced at the medical textbook he left on the table yesterday after Jason called. Nothing in it would bring Spenser back. He knew most avalanche victims survived only two or three hours in air pockets, and the longest anyone ever survived was believed to be twenty-two hours. They were well past that mark. Trent buried his face in his hands and let his tears fall.

Sonny stood and walked to the little bar ensconced in the far corner of the room. He grabbed six glasses and a bottle of whiskey. Returning to the table, he poured a shot into each glass and handed out four, leaving one on the table and holding the last.

Clearing his throat, Sonny held his glass aloft. "Simba, it was an honor to serve with you. May you rest in peace, little brother." He slugged down the burning liquid and then walked out of the bed and breakfast, needing to be alone in his sorrow.

Ray, Brock, and Trent all downed their shots and dispersed, also needing to be alone to grieve.

Jason lowered his glass and set it beside the one Sonny poured for their absent brother. He refused to drink until he had tangible proof. Not until he saw Spenser for himself, which meant he might never find closure for the loss of a chosen son.

.

 _... To be continued in AI-T_

* * *

 **AN:** Hope you had fun on the _Where's Spenser?_ rollercoaster. Drop me a review and let me know what you thought ... love reading them.

Evil muse at work, so this story will continue with AI-T. My working title at the moment is **Taken and Tortured.**

Hope you liked the little cameo of Tony DiNozzo. My version of him is a little AU, he took the Rota, Spain gig. Didn't like how they wrote the character after he rescued Ziva ... they could've and should've done better with him. Since Tony is in only one chapter, not tagging this story as a cross-over.

My research for something Cerb ate which caused him to get sick was enlightening. I had no idea many common people foods were so toxic to our furry friends. Garlic and onion surprised me the most ... I cook steak with those and often give little pieces of the leftovers to my three pups ... guess that treat is out for them now.


	20. Taken and Tortured

**Taken and Tortured**

* * *

 _Summary:_ A continuation of AI-S - "Where's Spenser?" which picks up right where it left off. Clay went skiing in Switzerland with Bravo and is presumed dead and buried by an avalanche. The truth is much more disturbing. Will his brothers figure out he was taken by a man bent on torturing him to death before he succeeds?

 _This installment is extra long (35,000 + words), so there are 9 chapter breaks to help you mark your place. Happy reading._

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Tears and Tactics**

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland – Church**_

After Sonny's anguished farewell toast to Clay, Ray wandered the streets of Zermatt with no destination in mind. However, his heart must've known where he needed to be and guided his feet. He approached the church with its doors standing wide open, inviting anyone tormented by yesterday's tragedy to come inside. Entering, Ray noted it was quite full and took a seat in the last pew. Bowing his head, Ray sat in silence, hoping for a respite from the overwhelming pain and tightness in his chest.

He let tears slide down without swiping them away. He had lost brothers before … mostly in combat. This was different. His shoulders began to shake as his grief washed over him like a tsunami. "Why the kid?" he murmured. "Why here? Why now? Why this way? Why?"

Father Tremblay moved up and down the aisle, offering comfort to those who sought out his church, regardless of denomination. Many tourists came, needing a place to pray after the avalanche. As he neared the rear, he overheard the soft questioning of a grieving soul, struggling to make sense of why. He gave the man several moments to release his anguish before approaching him.

Ray possessed no clue to how long he sat there sobbing, but a light touch on his back caused him to lift his eyes, and he met the compassionate brown orbs of a priest.

"My son, did you lose someone on the mountain?"

Swiping at his eyes, Ray nodded.

"Would you like me to sit with you for a while?"

Again, Ray gave a slight nod, and the father sat beside him.

"I'm Father Tremblay."

"Ray." He used his sleeve as a tissue to dry his eyes.

Tremblay remained quiet, leaving his hand on the younger man's back, understanding those grieving often needed a tangible link to other humans. Though not everyone did, he was pleased Ray didn't pull back.

Words began to tumble out, "Clay was too young … just a kid … well, not an actual kid, but our kid brother. The youngest on our team. When he joined, oh man, was Clay ever brash and cheeky, but he tempered once he understood what it meant to be part of a team … a family … and he wasn't alone anymore.

"He needed us as much as we needed him. He challenged us at every turn, and we became better because of him. His smile … his laugh … his dedication … his perseverance … all things to behold. Clay suffered so much, and every time, he bounced back. He dug deep with tenaciousness I haven't witnessed in anyone, ever. The kid survived things … well, things others couldn't or wouldn't. Clay was kind, honorable, willing to risk his life to save others. I can't believe he is gone. In a blink of an eye … gone.

"Although my faith tells me Clay is in a better place, the holes he is leaving down here are gaping. I can't wrap my head around why him? Why now? Why did he have to die alone? He trusted us. He shouldn't have had to die all alone. It hurts so much to think in his last moments he called out to us to save him, and we weren't there. Hurts … so much." Ray's eyes teared up again.

Father Tremblay waited a moment to determine if Ray would continue, and when he didn't, he said, "Those left behind will grieve. Your sorrow is real, and yes, it hurts a great deal now. As Clay tempered over time, so too will your heartache. Perhaps you can find a measure of solace in knowing your brother was not truly alone. The Lord embraced and welcomed him into his home, and in time, you will be reunited with him."

A teary-eyed young woman stopped next to the father. "Excuse me." She hiccupped, holding back a sob.

Tremblay turned kind eyes to the woman. "Yes?"

"Um, someone said you are going to hold a candlelight vigil tonight … and um. They said if I brought a photo of my brother, the church would print it out and add it to the wall of those missing. They haven't found him …" she broke down sobbing.

Standing, Tremblay wrapped the distraught woman in his arms. "Yes. Yes, we will. I'll help you with that." He turned to Ray. "If you would like to have a photo of Clay added, please come with me. We can download most image files."

Ray's hand went to his pocket and caressed his phone. He took many snapshots of the guys since they arrived. He should be able to find a decent one of Clay. He rose. "Yeah. I'd like to add Clay to the missing wall … we've yet to find him too."

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland –** **Rented Home**_

In a foggy, muddled state, Clay's face rubbed on the textured carpet as he moved. His tongue thicker than usual, he tried to lick his dry lips, but upon moving it found the reason for the thickness, a wad of fabric had been shoved in his mouth, gagging him. The thumping in his head made it difficult to think, but he grasped three other things … he lay on the floor with his hands bound behind him, and whoever took him had blindfolded him.

He attempted to concentrate on the voices speaking around him in an unfamiliar language, but the effort seemed too much. He turned inward, trying to recall the last clear thing before waking here. _Sitting in the cable car … being jostled …. a poke in his left arm … becoming woozy … then nothing until now._

Clay breathed through his nose as thoughts of his brothers came to mind. They would surely not be letting him out of their grasp or sight for months to come. Their overprotectiveness would increase a thousand-fold once they rescued him. And he had no doubt they wouldn't … they always did.

They would already be searching for him because he had told them he would be waiting for them at the top and he didn't break his word. They'd notice he was gone within two seconds of arriving. The only thing that niggled in the back of his mind is how much time elapsed. He figured it couldn't be more than maybe twenty minutes, because they would locate him fast … his bright orange jacket and neon green knit cap stuck out like a sore thumb among all the other colors.

Testing his hands, Clay found the binding tight with no slack, but at least the twine didn't bite into his skin like the last time he had been trussed up … and his shoulder was not dislocated, and he hadn't been dragged through the sand either, so at least three boons.

His mind shifted, and the image of the man to his left came to him. The impression he formed in the few moments of interaction with the salt-and-pepper-haired man with a cultured, yet accented voice didn't trigger any concerns. Although there was the pin-prick to his left arm. _Drugged … definitely drugged._

Clay pondered the possibility of the person on his other side being involved … but that would mean it was a setup and well planned. Switching lanes, another scenario came to mind … it was random and opportunistic. That seemed more likely to Clay because who would want to take him? The two men who hated him couldn't be involved. His father was dead, and Spencer Clayton was in prison.

A crime of opportunity seemed most likely. Any person unlucky enough to sit next to the man would've been taken … and since shit always happened to him, it was his bad luck to be the one. Clay didn't stay in negative-land long as he realized he had the best luck of all … Bravo team drafted him, and all five brothers would be searching high and low for him by now, and they would find him.

He was pulled out of his own thoughts as someone switched on the television, and he translated the French-speaking newscaster's words. _Twenty-three dead, thirteen rescued alive, and six still missing and presumed dead in the unexpected avalanche on the Theodul Glacier behind the Klein Matterhorn yesterday morning._

His thundering heart drowned out the rest of the newscast as three words screamed in his head. Theodul? Yesterday? Avalanche? He realized more than twenty minutes had passed since there had been no avalanche on the mountain yesterday which meant whoever took him abducted him at minimum one day ago. _No … no this can't be happening. Shit not again. Oh God, are my brothers dead or missing? Please let them be alive._

Then a twinkling of a thought twisted his gut. _Do they know someone took me? If they think I'm one of the missing, they won't be looking for me._ The cultured voice with an accent cut through his torturous thoughts.

"You're mine. They will never suspect you were taken. You are going to pay … vengeance is mine." He had noted the stirring earlier and hoped Spenser overheard the news report, but it wouldn't do to allow a SEAL to regain all sensibilities even while bound, gagged, and blindfolded. He jabbed the needle into Spenser's arm and drugged him again.

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland – Hilltop**_

Though dog-tired, Brock meandered outside, needing to be in the fresh air. Typically, he would go for a run with Cerb when something troubled him to ease his mind, but his body didn't possess enough energy to do more than walk. He stumbled upon a trail leading upward and without much thought, followed the path. The Swiss Alps in summer were green in the valley town of Zermatt, but wintery white near the top of Theodul Glacier offered year-round skiing.

Coming to a flat rock, too fatigued to continue, Brock took a load off, lowering himself to the warmed stone and Cerb settled next to him. Alone in nature usually helped soothe him, but losing Clay yesterday, well, he didn't think anything would lessen the hurt which coursed from the top of his skull to the tips of his toes. Sure, his muscles ached from a day's worth of digging snow, but the pain he experienced now was emotional, not physical.

Lying back on the rock, he tucked his hands behind his head and stared up at the puffy clouds. He was not a man of faith like Ray. No afterlife awaited him … or Clay. It was up to him to keep his brother alive … the kid now only lived in his heart and memories. When Cerb rested his head on his chest, Brock moved one hand to pet him. "He's only been gone a day, and I miss him so much, Cerb."

"Whine, ruff, whimper." _Me too. I'm sorry, I couldn't find my boy. I tried._ Cerb nuzzled closer needing Brock's reassurance he was still a good dog even though he didn't locate his boy.

"You did such a good job. You saved so many. Clay must be buried too deep for you to catch his scent." Brock blew out a shaky breath. "The world is a cruel place, but I'm glad we got these past few days with him. Never have I seen him so happy and carefree. He was starting to come out of his tunnel vision that our job is all he wanted and began to see he might have more again."

"Ruff, yip, yip, wuff."

"Yeah, I agree. The world will be a sadder place without him."

Cerb scooted up to lick Brock's cheek, content his partner seemed to understand him more. He tasted the saltiness of Brock's silent tears, and if dogs could shed tears in the same manner as humans, his eyes would be overflowing with them too.

The two of them nestled together, giving and receiving comfort until Brock's phone buzzed. He pulled it out and read the text from Ray. **Candlelight vigil at seven in the church courtyard. Please come.**

Though he didn't believe in God, Brock decided he would go to support Ray and gain solace being with his brothers.

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland –** **Bed and Breakfast – Porch**_

Trent didn't go any further than the back porch. His still healing body had been taken to its limit as he worked on triaging those found in the snow, his shoulder not allowing him to dig like the others. He sank down on the padded, double-seater swing and gazed off at Theodul Glacier where tragedy struck.

So many lives would be affected by the capriciousness of Mother Nature. Overhearing several English-speaking volunteer rescuers who skied here often, he learned an avalanche at this time of year was extremely rare, which is why it took everyone by surprise. He and his brothers were not the only ones left in a state of limbo. Five other people besides Clay, two teenage boys, one adult male, and two women, were also still missing.

Trent comprehended their state of mind because not knowing was worse than knowing for sure. Trent couldn't let go of the tiny flicker of hope still residing in his heart. He refused to snuff out the flame until such time as Clay's body was located. And as such, his grief would be elongated since his little brother, the man who wormed his way into all of their hearts with his soulful blue eyes, could not be put to rest and given the honors due him until found.

He didn't want to leave without the kid … even if it meant he escorted him home in a flag-draped coffin. Gut twisting memories of having to break off the search for him in Nepal crept in, and the terrible condition he was in when they found him in Tibet caused tentacles to wrap around his intestines and squeeze. They left him once … ordered to do so … he wouldn't do it again. He would go AWOL before he would leave Zermatt without Clay.

Trent closed his eyes, his tears shed earlier, his heart aching, he whispered, "Thank you for always trusting my medical skills, even when I didn't trust myself. You taught me so much, brother. Your laughter and smile will be missed. I will treasure our short time together … you made a true difference in my life."

He drifted into a light doze as images of times he spent with Clay played in his mind. Somewhere in between the verge of sleep and wakefulness, a flash came to him. Trent bolted upright in the swing too fast as his eyes flew open and his heart raced. As he panted to reclaim his breath which left him in a whoosh, Trent rubbed his eyes, unable to clear the vision.

Trent's gaze went to the glacier, and he couldn't shake the muffled throaty voice of Clay saying, "I'm alive. Find me. Save me. Don't leave me," or the image of the kid bound, gagged, and lying on a textured carpet. The gagging made no sense because Clay wouldn't be able to call out with a rag shoved in his mouth.

The buzzing of his phone interrupted his thoughts, and he reached for his cell. He read Ray's message, and although he didn't think he possessed the strength to attend the vigil, he would. Perhaps he had a vision and Clay was really calling to him. Or maybe it was only wishful thinking … wanting to thwart Mother Nature and transcend reality to once again cheat the Grim Reaper out of taking Clay from him.

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland –** **Lügengeschichten Bar**_

Sonny entered the first bar he came across and noted he wasn't the only one seeking respite in alcohol. He ordered two tequila shots and a beer. Downing one tequila, a memory came in unbidden. The night he took Clay out in Mexico, and they stood in the street as Clay told him about Stella leaving him … and to never fall in love.

His broken heart tripped over its beats, and he almost wished he didn't possess one. He fell in love … with Davis, but god knows how that would work out. And he fell in love with a little brother. Not a creepy sort of love … just straight forward brotherly love for a blond pup with curly hair who initially set his teeth on edge. When Jason told him to take him under his wing on the first deployment, the little turd had been so friggin' cocky about everything.

Slamming back the second tequila and chasing it with a swig of beer, Sonny hoped he would become tanked up fast. Unable to handle the emotions threatening to overwhelm him, he waved to the barkeep and ordered two more shots. Losing Clay hurt worse than the combined deaths of Nate, Adam, Swanny, and Danny.

After receiving his tequilas, Sonny turned on the stool and peered around the bar, realizing he ended up in the same one he and Simba came to three nights ago. Tall Tales is what Clay said the bar's name translated to. He recalled teasing him about being a closet nerd with all his book learnin'. Clay responded that it helped with picking up ladies … having the looks and brains to go with them.

They made a bet Clay couldn't get the numbers for three ladies that night. Sonny should've known not to wager against the kid. Not only did he lose fifty, but Mr. GQ talked up four women and hooked up with three of them the next day. The smirk Clay threw his way had indicated he could've doubled that if he had put even a little effort forward. The women pretty much fell for his handsome face, blue eyes, and curly golden locks … something he should've realized before making a fool's bet.

Sonny downed the third tequila as he spied two of the women Clay wooed that first night. Sliding off the stool, Sonny finished his fourth tequila as wandered over and took a seat at their table. Alcohol and grief chose his words, "What did you like best about Clay?"

"Excuse me? Who are you?" the twiggy blond said, as the brunette only stared at the exhausted and slightly inebriated man.

"Clay's brother. Tell me what made him so special?" Sonny's voice broke a few times.

The brown-haired woman's eyes sprouted with tears. "No. Oh, God, no."

"Selena, what's wrong?"

Pulling a tissue from the depths of her purse, Selena sniffled as she wiped her eyes and focused on the man. "Did he … is he one of the …"

Sonny nodded. "Still missing."

Tiffany's eyes widened and also teared up as she answered the initial inquiry. "Your brother … he made me laugh. I was attracted to his smile and his physique. His witty humor drew me in." Her hand moved, and she touched his. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Selena rose and moved around the table, and without permission turned the muscular man to her and wrapped her arms around him. Choking her words out, she said, "You don't know us, but if there is anything you need, anything at all, please ask."

 _Relying on the kindness of strangers_ … the line Clay used to pick up Stella popped into the Texan's head. He only knew the little detail because Clay rambled on about Stella when he was three sheets to the wind in Mexico.

The first sob surprised him, the second not so much, by the third he didn't give a rat's ass he was crying in the arms of a total stranger. The torrential rain of emotions unleashed had as much chance of being stopped as a category five tornado. At some point, the other woman's arms embraced him too. Leave it to Toto to pick out empathic ladies willing to reach out to the Tinman with their hearts in this land of Oz.

A vibration in his pocket alerted him to his phone. The twister spun him back to the here and now as he disengaged from their arms and reached for his cell. He had to wipe the liquid from his eyes before reading the text.

Releasing a sigh, Sonny peered at the kindhearted women. "Would you like to come with me to a candlelight vigil?"

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland –** **Bed and Breakfast – Dining Room**_

Jason stared blankly at the two full whiskey glasses for an unknown amount of time, his mind on pause. He couldn't and wouldn't drink a toast to say goodbye … yet. He needed closure … one way or the other. His transient moment ended when his tactical mind reengaged. Without further thought, he pulled out his phone and dialed the one man who could help.

On the fourth ring, the call was answered, and he barreled forwarded without pleasantries. "Eric, I need your help. The kid is missing. I need Alpha, support, and anyone else you can get here by tomorrow morning."

Eric's jaw dropped. "You're on vacation. How the hell is he missing from a tiny village?"

Jason transferred all his anguish into remaining on task as he explained, "Avalanche. A tidal wave of snow buried him and many others. Over twenty confirmed dead, thirteen injured, and Clay is among six still unaccounted. We searched for more than twenty-four hours. The rescue leader is apathetic, indicating the kid's body may never be found. I'm not leaving without Spenser … we never leave a man behind. I need more manpower to continue the search."

"I'll get things in motion and call you later with details," Eric slipped into his time-tested commander mode, one where emotion had no place. Something a good cake-eater must be able to do. As much as he hurt learning that one of his men had been taken out by a freak accident, those living needed him more. Jason needed him to send backup, and he would move heaven and earth to deploy as many people as he could to help in the search.

"Thanks."

"Jace, how are our boys holding up?"

Peering at the alcohol, Jason clenched his fist tightly. "Not certain."

"What?"

"They needed space … time alone … so did I. I'm going to round them up, make sure they are safe, and let them know help is coming."

Eric raked a hand through his hair. "Okay. Call if you need anything else."

Jason hung up without responding. He stood and prepared to find his boys but halted a moment as he started to shove his cell into his pocket. He noted the group text from Ray. His second in command always had his back. He wouldn't need to travel all over hell and creation to locate his brothers … they would all, to the last one, heed Ray's plea to come to the vigil.

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland – Taxi Outside** **Rented Home**_

After settling Spenser in the middle of the back seat next to his bodyguard, Hamid Tabasi slid in and shut his door as he caught the taxi driver's eyes in the rearview mirror.

Theo Iff turned his head to peer at his slumped passenger. In German, he asked, "Is he sick?"

Responding in the same language, Tabasi configured his face in a somber expression. "My son is distraught over the death of his fiancée in the avalanche and needed to be sedated. We are taking him home. This place is too painful for him."

"I'm so sorry." Theo returned his gaze to the front and put the electric car in gear. "I'll need to take a slightly roundabout way to the train station due to the massive turnout for the candlelight vigil. I won't charge you for this trip. I'm truly sorry for yours and your son's loss."

Tabasi nodded, keeping his countenance solemn. His timing for exiting Zermatt couldn't be more perfect. The heavy dose of tranquilizers would keep Spenser totally under his control until he could move him into the sleeper car where he could tie him up again. Taking a train all the way to Turkey was tactically smarter because it drew less attention than air travel. From Turkey, he could board his personal plane, and they would land in Turkmenbashi, Turkmenistan with no one the wiser.

Dyeing Spenser's hair black, trimming off all the curls, and shaving his beard changed his appearance enough that no one would easily recognize him. The clothing he now wore also added to the trickery. Tabasi dressed his target in a tailored suit made from the finest materials … which matched the one he wore with only the color of their ties being different. The bearded, blond-haired, jeans and cowboy boot-wearing SEAL now looked like the son of a wealthy tycoon.

However, once he reached his final destination, all illusions would be stripped away, and Spenser would learn the meaning of torture as he paid for his transgressions. _Soon vengeance will be mine._

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Truth, Lies, and Trouble Magnet**

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland – Church Courtyard**_

Sonny spotted Ray in the throng and pushed his way forward, making a path for himself, Tiffany, and Selena. He arrived at the same time as Jason and Trent from the opposite direction. The only ones missing, Brock and Cerb. When he received inquiring gazes from the guys, he said, "This is Selena and Tiffany … the kid," he stopped himself from saying slept with them and changed it to, "talked with these ladies, and they wanted to come."

As Ray handed out candles to everyone, going through the motions of pleasantries to greet the women, he noted Trent appeared dead on his feet. Their medic overdid, and they needed to be more careful of his health since he was still recovering from three bullet wounds. Ray's concern telegraphed to Jason, and it didn't take long for his brother to solve the problem. Jace produced a chair out of nowhere and made Trent sit.

Brock's and Cerb's arrival came with the exclamation, "How did a photo of Clay end up on the wall?"

Those who hadn't noticed stared at the eight by ten picture. Clay was dressed in his tangerine jacket and bright green cap, smiling while holding his rented snowboard.

"It was the best one of those I took. Father Tremblay printed it out for me." Ray glanced at his brothers. "I had other snapshots, but this one shows him happiest."

Jason continued to gaze at the image. "That's because I told him I would foot the bill for his rental equipment if he agreed to wear those colors."

A chuckle emitted from Trent. "I said I'd pay for his train ticket."

Sonny's face split into a grin. "I made a deal to pay for his beer while here."

"Hotel room for me," Brock added.

Ray gaped as he realized they all had made deals unbeknownst to one another to gain Clay's compliance. "Well, I paid for his lift tickets. No wonder he was happy … almost free vacation."

Sobering, Sonny said, "Would give everything I own to have Toto standing here instead of his photo on that damned wall."

Brock eyed Sonny. "Toto's a new one."

"Yeah." Sonny didn't expand. He didn't want to share with them he wished to be the heartless Tinman of Oz because losing Clay hurt too damned much. He was saved from explaining when Jason began to tell them about his call to Blackburn, and that reinforcement would be arriving in the morning to help them continue their searching.

As the sun began to set, people started to light candles and place flowers against the wall reserved for photos of those who perished on the mountain. The international gathering resulted in a mix of languages as people talked about their loved ones and received condolences from strangers as the crowd ebbed and flowed.

Sofia made her way along the wall of the lost, searching for images of those she met on her trip. She half-expected to find pictures of Clay's friends. So, it came as an utter shock when she spied Clay's face on the wall of the six missing. She shook her head. "This can't be right."

Turning in a circle, trying to find someone in charge to ask why Clay was listed as missing, shock rippled through her again when she spotted all of Clay's buddies … including the dog who could snowboard. What a sight that had been. She hurried over to the man who owned the pup, and her hand landed on his arm. "Excuse me."

Brock pivoted. "Yes."

"Do you remember me?"

Recognizing the lady Clay slept with last night, he said, "Sofia?"

She nodded. "Sofia Tanzer. You're Brock, right?"

"Yeah."

Pointing at Clay's smiling image, she asked, "Why is Clay there?"

Brock blinked as her question caught the other guys' attention. He swallowed an emotional lump as he answered, "We haven't found him. Clay went up on the car before us, and we saw the avalanche cover him."

Shaking her head again, Sofia said, "Can't be. He was at the cable station right after the avalanche. I thought you all had been lost … he couldn't even walk … some guy was helping him."

"What do you mean?" Jason's trouble antennae twitched with her words.

"Exactly that. I tried to go to him but was cut-off by emergency workers. By the time my path was clear … I couldn't see him in the chaos. I didn't know where he was staying, so I came tonight, hoping to find him and check if he needed a friendly face." Her gaze moved back to his picture.

"Are you certain it was Clay?" Trent asked, his vision of Clay gagged and pleading they save him coming to the forefront of his mind.

"Yes, though …" she trailed off.

"What?" Sonny stepped closer, hope flickering to light in his wounded heart.

"He wasn't wearing his orange jacket or neon green cap. I spotted his blond hair. Then I glimpsed his face … I'm positive it was Clay. But if you are here … maybe he was hurt, and the guy was taking him to the hospital or something."

Jason shook his head. "There is no way he could've skied out of the way of the avalanche … and he was wearing his orange coat."

When Cerb nudged his hand, Brock glanced down and then to Sofia. "Can you describe the man who was helping him?"

Twirling a finger through her hair, a nervous tick which always occurred when in deep thought, Sofia tried to recall details. "Salt and pepper hair … well-dressed with designer clothing … a bit taller than Clay. He had to stoop a little with Clay's arm slung over his shoulders. Funny, my first thought was Clay was drunk, but then I realized it was too early in the morning. That's when I decided he must've lost one or more of you guys."

The truth of what likely occurred dawned on all of them as Jason shoved his candle at Ray. "We need to find out if there are cameras anywhere in the station. If Sofia really saw Clay, then he's in trouble."

Ray handed off both candles to Trent. "I'm coming with you."

"We need to contact Blackburn!" Sonny added his candle to those in Trent's hands.

"Sofia, would you be willing to show me where you last saw Clay?" Brock gave his flicking candle into Trent's care. But then something niggled at his mind. "Sonny, if someone took Clay, we don't know why. Trent's in no shape to be alone."

Sonny nodded. As much as he wanted to be doing something to find Clay, he would not sacrifice Trent. "I'll call Blackburn for you, Jace."

Nodding, Jason agreed, acknowledging Sonny needed something to occupy him as he guarded Trent. If trouble was afoot, and if someone took Clay then they all might be targets.

When the others dispersed, Trent peered up at Sonny. "Thanks for staying. We should head back to our hotel."

Sonny took all the candles and passed them out to other people then offered a hand to his exhausted brother and helped him to rise. As they began a slow trek to the bed and breakfast, Sonny said, "Wish Toto had a pair of ruby slippers he could click three times and come home to us."

Trent chuckled. "You do know it is Dorothy who wore the slippers, right?"

"Doesn't matter. Do you think this is for real … that someone took our brother?" Sonny slipped his arm around Trent's waist and tugged his uninjured arm over his shoulders when Trent stumbled.

"With the kid, anything is possible. He's a trouble magnet." He sighed and shared, "You're gonna think I'm crazy, but I had a semi-awake dream he was bound and gagged and calling to us to save him. He was laying on blue carpet with a twisting vine texture or design. Couldn't figure how he could talk when gagged, but it felt so real. Weird, huh?"

Sonny snorted. "I'm in Oz, and you're in the Twilight Zone."

* * *

 _ **Zürich, Switzerland – Zürich Stadelhofen**_

"Careful with my son," speaking Turkmen, Tabasi affected a concerned mien for the benefit of any spectators as his bodyguards transferred Spenser from his reclining seat into a wheelchair. Still somewhat surprised during the four-hour train ride that his target had not stirred once, he kept checking his pulse and respirations, which added to the illusion of worry.

His real reason … Tabasi wanted to ensure his quarry survived and he hadn't dosed him too much. After all his planning, the sheer cost of the information he bought, and all his patience, he didn't want Spenser dying before he could torture him. A simple, easy death would not be in the cards for the man who killed his sons and sought to bring down his organization. No, Tabasi wouldn't allow him to die quietly via a muscle relaxer and tranquilizer overdose.

Aware of motion and sounds, voices speaking a language he didn't comprehend, and unable to make his muscles cooperate with orders to open his eyes or talk, Clay was nothing more than a ragdoll at the mercy of whoever took him. He focused on the noises and finally determined he was on a train, but then it came to a halt.

Clay's head lolled on his chest, neck muscles non-existent and unable to keep it upright. He didn't resist, not that he could've at this point, but also, he believed remaining docile and pretending to be unconscious to be his best strategy. He might overhear something which would give him a clue as to where he was and an opportunity to escape.

Though escaping seemed a bit farfetched at the moment since he couldn't even lift his pinky on command. He fought the rising panic which came from being so vulnerable and from the realization he was no longer in Zermatt. He refocused on his surroundings … using skills he learned, and still sucked at, during the time his eyes were covered in the hospital.

Being transferred into a rolling chair meant they were likely portraying him as an invalid or ill. The bumps indicated they left the train, and the breeze on his face signified they were outside. His tummy rumbling and the gnawing emptiness made it apparent he had not eaten in some time … though not sure how long. A car horn went off in the distance, but he focused on the sounds closer to him.

The next destination didn't appear to be too far because his chair stopped after only a short walk, or roll in his case. Clay wanted to yell 'jackpot' when he overheard a girl ask her dad in French if they were now in Zurich and the father replied yes and their night train to Belgrade would be arriving shortly. Though it would've been more helpful if he could've called out for help, neither was happening … he was a proverbial lump on a log.

Several minutes later, the girl's squeal of delight and rapid-fire chattering about going to visit her grandparents, combined with an announcement in multiple languages told Clay her train arrived. And after a few more minutes, it appeared to be his train too as the wheelchair began moving once again.

His abductor switched to French as he spoke to the porter, and Clay now understood why no one questioned why he was non-responsive. Supposedly he was the man's son, and was being taken home after a complete mental breakdown … the reason why he was sedated and no one was to enter the private sleeper car. _Well, shit. How am I gonna get out of this?_

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland –** **Cable Car Station**_

Finding the station empty, closed, and doors locked, searching efforts stopped for today and everyone apparently at the vigil, at home, or hotels resting, Jason pivoted to stare up at the mountain. The mobile lights used through last night to illuminate the area were off, and only moonlight cast an eerie glow over the slope.

"We'll find him." Ray lay a hand on Jason's shoulder.

Jason nodded. "We saw orange and green. If it wasn't Clay, then who the hell was wearing his things?"

"Don't have a clue, brother."

Sofia peered through the window and spoke to Brock, "I was sitting on the third bench on the left side." She glanced at the dog. "Can he truly sniff out Clay after so long?"

"Not certain, but it is worth a shot."

Ray glimpsed a janitor inside and knocked until he got the man's attention, glad he came to the door and hoped he spoke English. When it opened, Ray asked, "Do you have security cameras here?" His hopes were dashed as the janitor only scrunched his brows, not understanding.

Tugging on the partially opened door, Jason took matters into his own hands. He strode into the station and began searching for the telltale cameras while the ticked off man let loose a torrent of words Jason didn't comprehend. However, he expected them to be something along the lines of 'What the hell? You can't be in here. I'm calling the police,' when the trailing man pulled out his phone and made a call.

"Stay here," Brock said to Sofia as he, Cerb, and Ray trespassed right behind Jason.

"There!" Jason pointed to one camera as Brock headed for the benches.

"One over here," Ray said as he took the opposite side. He tapped the angry man's shoulder and pointed up. "Camera. Security." The language barrier didn't improve with a visual.

Brock let Cerberus roam all over and around the benches as the other two found several more cameras which would give a complete view of the interior, but Cerb didn't locate a scent he could track. A dead end.

It didn't take long for the police to show up and luckily both officers spoke English well. When Officer Trachsler translated for them as they explained why they needed to see the video feed, the perturbed janitor became quite cooperative and ushered all of them to the security room.

Trachsler took a seat at the desk and said, "When did you say he went missing?"

"Shortly after the avalanche, but I want to go back to just before we got into line for the cable car. We need to find out if there is a salt-and-peppered man on the same car as Clay."

Finding the right time-stamp, Trachsler let the footage run. Their hopes sunk further when they only caught a glimpse of the back of the head of a man with black and white hair … no facial capture. They noted the car number Clay entered and watched until it returned to the bottom. Just before the door opened, the feed went all squiggly, and as they viewed one after another camera produced the same interference before finally becoming clear again, they all came to the same conclusion.

Jason raked fingers through his hair. "This was not random. Whoever took Clay had accomplices, and this is well orchestrated."

Trachsler wasn't sure who these men were, but he recognized a military bearing. And though he shouldn't, he shared a piece of information with them. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone, but there is an indication the avalanche was not natural. If as you say, this isn't random, the culprit might've caused it to cover his tracks. I suggest we go talk to our Sergeant."

"I agree." Jason's mind began to turn, examining many possibilities, none of which he liked. He would need to contact Blackburn again and request he bring at least one of the tech wizards and Mandy too.

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland –** **Bed and Breakfast – Trent's Room**_

Sonny tucked Trent into bed, made sure he took his pain meds and brought him a snack before he made the call to Blackburn. After hanging up, he turned from the window he stared out of to check on Trent. Noting the dark circles under his eyes, Sonny wished they had been more cognizant of Trent's level of exhaustion.

He lowered himself into a chair, taking his role as overwatch of his injured brother seriously. Sonny realized that even if they had tried to make him rest yesterday, Trent would've denied his fatigue when total strangers needed medical care. Though, part of Sonny also recognized one of the reasons Trent didn't tell them he was wiped out is because he wanted to be on-hand if they located Clay.

"We're all mule-headed," Sonny murmured to no one since Trent dropped into sleep while he talked with Blackburn. His phone still in his hand began buzzing, and Sonny answered, "Jace, find anything?"

After listening to the status, he blew out a long breath. "You won't be able to contact Blackburn. I caught him right before he was taking off. All of Alpha, support, Mandy, and her techs boarded a commercial flight together. He, Mandy, and Alpha planned to take a helo here instead of the train with the others. Send him a text and tell him to add Lester. We're gonna need his skills for the computer stuff."

They exchanged a few more details before disconnecting. With nothing to do but wait now, Sonny turned his tumultuous thoughts to who might've taken the kid. _Ashhole is dead, so he can't be involved. Spencer Clayton is in prison … and unless he's got some rich uncle, there is no way he has funds or the know-how to orchestrate this._

When he couldn't put his finger on a primary target, Sonny growled and rested his head on the back of the chair. "Whoever took you, Toto, I swear they will pay. You hang on wherever you are, you hold tight. We're coming for you, and once we find you, the assholes will be taking dirt naps."

* * *

 _ **Train Bound for Belgrade**_

Using his well-honed sniper skills, ones which allowed him to lay in wait, concealed, and unmoving for hours on end, Clay continued his ruse of being unconscious and unaware when he discovered he could move his hand as they transferred him from the wheelchair to a narrow bed. His talent sorely tested sometime later when two men stripped him down completely. He wanted to thunder, to fight, to kill when hands roamed over his lower half, taking liberties which caused both embarrassment and fury. Thankfully, the familiar voice barked something incomprehensible, and they stopped before their actions turned into full-fledged rape.

As someone covered his naked body, he caught the sound of the door opening and closing with footfalls between. His effort to remain still and non-reactionary during the assault paid off as a throaty voice spoke in English. "So, this is the infidel who killed your sons and put mine in prison."

"Yes," Tabasi replied.

"Why is he not tied up? Spenser is a SEAL and capable of extreme violence."

"The tranquilizer and muscle relaxer are quite potent … more so than I thought. He is still fully incapacitated. I had my guards test him. No man would allow himself to be touched in such a manner and not react if capable. He will be restrained once he shows the slightest sign of waking. I cannot give him more drugs for several more hours for fear of killing him before I exact my revenge."

"Our revenge. And he needs to be restrained now before he wakes. I don't want everything we did to go to waste."

Clay listened, thrown for a loop … this was not random. They knew who he was and what he did. He had been targeted. As his hands were put palms together and twine wound around his wrists, he debated whether to make his move now. He almost jerked out of the grasp but halted when the newcomer's voice said, "After you do that, care to join me in the dining car for tea?"

His arms were lifted above his head, and the rope must've been tied to something above and behind him, as the cultured accented voice replied, "Yes. This should hold him for now. My guard will be outside the room as a secondary measure."

After the voices receded and the door opened and closed again, Clay waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, he lifted his lashes a tiny bit and surveyed what he could view without moving. Finding no one in his limited field of vision, he allowed his head to slowly roll to both sides, taking in the entire room. Empty except for him.

Tilting his eyes upward to peer at his hands a toothy grin played on Clay's face. The knot would be simple enough to undo. His smile faded as he found moving to be more troublesome than expected. His legs slow to comply with his commands. Once he managed to scoot up far enough, using his teeth, he worked to loosen the binding.

As his arms fell free, a sense of euphoria surged through him until he realized he was on a speeding train. Therefore his escape options were limited. On tottery legs, Clay wobbled to the tiny bathroom to grab a towel to wrap around himself because leaving here naked wouldn't be preferable.

His eyes widened when he spied his reflection. Shaven, hair trimmed … and black. _Shit, a lot of planning went into taking me. Who the hell are they, and who did I put in prison and kill? Sonny is right … I'm a fucking trouble magnet._

The list for both could include any number of terrorists he had captured or terminated during his tenure with Bravo, as well as those eliminated during his tours with SEAL Team Three. Tugging a towel off the rack, Clay decided who didn't matter at the moment … escaping them did.

Making his way to the door on rubbery legs, using the wall for support, Clay hoped he possessed enough control over his muscles to thwart the guard outside, and enough luck to find a place to hide or a way to communicate with his brothers.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Escape Thwarted, Trent's Dream, Tasks, and Tabasi the Terrible**

 _ **Train Bound for Belgrade**_

Reaching the door, Clay tethered himself to the wall gripping the metal coat hook to the left. As he extended his hand to the knob, he realized he wasn't thinking clearly. They had undressed him, so clothing must be in the room. He turned and scanned, noting a neatly folded pile. _Do I dare take the extra time to dress?_

Deciding pants were a must Clay wobbled to the table holding the garments. He let the towel drop and grabbed the black slacks. He had to sit to shove his legs in, and as he did so, he mentally ran through his training for unarmed combat, trying to determine which method to use. He figured if he could get behind the guy and wrap his arm around his neck, a chokehold would be his best bet. If he attacked fast enough, he might be able to pull the guard into the room before anyone spotted him.

His fingers not cooperating, the drugs inhibiting his usual dexterity, Clay had trouble pulling up the zipper. He stood as he tried to button them, and his ears, not affected, picked up a slight snick. He pivoted just as the door pushed open. _Shit, if I didn't stop to put on clothes._

That was all the time Clay had to think before the towering man who had to turn sideways to get through the door rushed him. He couldn't lose this opportunity, and twisted to the left, hoping to slip past the guard. Unfortunately, the tardive effects of the drugs made him slower than normal, and a treelike arm clotheslined his neck, knocking him to the ground.

Clay's head slammed against the edge of the table on the way down, stunning him. He gasped for breath, his throat burning from the strike. The toady grin which came to the guy's face as he loomed over him, ticked off Clay, and he decided to use every dirty tactic at his disposal. Gathering all his strength, he sent his foot straight for the man's testicles … payback for someone copping a feel of his junk earlier and a means by which to gain his freedom.

Treeman dropped to his knees with a grunt as his hands went to his groin. Clay scrambled for the door on his knees. He didn't bother to look back as he slammed it shut behind him … giving him a few more seconds head start. Noting the direction of the passing scenery via blips of light since it was nighttime, Clay headed for the front of the train. _If I can get to the engine and the conductor, I can get a message out to Bravo._

He started running … well, more like a fast walk because his leg muscles still trembled and threatened to give out. Dizziness and a well-known, and much-hated nausea coupled with a thundering headache told him the bump on his head had been enough to jangle his brains. A flash thought ran through his mind … _will I end up like Swanny with TBI_ … but he shoved it away as he reached the end of the car.

Tugging on the door, he opened it and stepped into the enclosed vestibule. His gait unsteady, Clay grabbed hold of the bar as he crossed the flexible gangway connection. Yanking the other door open, and stepping inside, Clay's world tilted and spun. _No. No. I need to keep going._ Digging deep, he staggered forward … into the dining car. His eyes lit on the salt-and-pepper-haired man. _Shit, wrong way._

Tabasi's eyes widened with surprise upon seeing Spenser clad in only slacks. He stood and donned his concerned façade. In another life, he might've been a thespian … though his acting skills helped in his chosen line of work. "Son, what are you doing out of bed? The doctor said you can't—"

"I'M NOT YOUR SON." Clay scanned the interior, and his eyes settled on a man with a little girl. "My name is Clay Spenser. I've been abducted by that man." He pointed at the man who took him. When only confused expressions met his words, he switched to French and repeated his words, which piqued the curiosity of those in the car.

Prepared for this eventuality, and several others, Tabasi used French when he replied. "Son, please … I am your father. You're ill and having trouble with reality." Tabasi noted two of his men approaching from behind Spenser.

Still speaking French, Clay said, "Quit calling me son. My father is dead, and he never gave a rat's ass about me." He moved a few more steps forward. "I need to contact the authorities." Clay rubbed his head, the thunder in his brain increasing he fought to remain upright and keep his eyes open.

Tabasi played to his audience. "You wound me. I love you. I'm taking you home. Please … you're not well. Your paranoid delusions returned. I don't want to restrain you. But I will, to protect you from yourself." He held in the smile as he decided to use the scar caused by the hook in Mexico. "Please don't become violent again. You have too many scars and have hurt too many people already. Let me take you back to your room, and you can take your meds."

"I'm not going anywhere with you. Your plan failed." Clay's eyes shifted to the man with the child. "Believe me … I'm not his son. My name is Clay—"

He never got to finish his sentence as electrodes embedded in his back and voltage coursed through his body. Clay dropped to the floor, jerking as the taser's electricity caused his muscles to spasm.

Continuing his act, Tabasi rushed to Spenser and knelt, holding his head in his lap. "This is for your own good. I'm so sorry … but you left me no other choice."

Tabasi turned sad eyes to the man Spenser had directed his comments to and noted the tiny child clung to him with fear on her face. "I'm sorry this terrified your daughter. You understand a father's love. I would do anything to protect my son. I would go to any length to keep him safe from harm … sadly, mental illness is a difficult enemy to fight."

"Yes, I understand." He held his girl and thanked his lucky stars she was the picture of physical and mental health. He couldn't imagine the pain that father must be going through.

Redirecting his gaze to his bodyguards, one of whom would be dead before sunrise due to his failure, Tabasi used Turkmen to instruct them in the only language his men spoke, ordering them to take Spenser back to the room, tie his hands and legs and he would be along in a few minutes to administer more tranquilizer.

Standing, he let out a sigh and returned to the table. In English, he said, "I must go now. It was a pleasure to dine with you. Perhaps we can meet later to continue our discussion." Tabasi took his leave, glancing at the man with the girl, and receiving a sympathetic nod.

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland –** **Bed and Breakfast – Trent's Room**_

Trent bolted upright in bed as he screamed, "NOOOOO!"

Awakened from a dead sleep, Sonny flicked on the lamp on the table between the beds. When Jason and the others returned several hours ago, he swapped rooms with Brock, deciding to remain with Trent. Cerb appeared happy to be going to his and Clay's room, and he suspected the hair missile would be sleeping on the kid's bed.

With speed he moved to Trent, noting his whole body trembled and he was drenched in sweat. They all had nightmares on occasion, having all witnessed terrible things … the lowest of humanity. So, he sat next to his brother, laid a hand on his thigh in support, a tether of sorts to the real world, and waited as Trent's breathing began to return to normal.

His back on fire, a tingling sensation with no real source ran through Trent's arms and legs, while his head throbbed. Once his panting slowed, he met Sonny's eyes. "Kid's hurting."

Squinting, unsure he heard correctly, Sonny asked, "What?"

"They hurt Clay."

"How do you know?"

Forgetting about his injured shoulder, Trent lifted his arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but the pain reminded him, and he hissed as he let it drop beside him.

Sonny reached for the pill bottle, shook out two tablets, and held them out for Trent to take with his uninjured side. He provided water after their medic popped the pain meds into his mouth. Once finished, Sonny rose and went to the bathroom, wetted a washcloth, and returned, handing it to Trent so he could wipe his face. He moved several pillows behind his buddy and then resumed his seat next to him. "Better?"

Leaning back on the soft cushioning, the fire in his back beginning to dissipate, Trent sighed. "Shit, Sonny, you're gonna think my mind has cracked."

"Another dream?"

Trent shook his head, nodded, then shook again. "Hell, if I know. Again, it seemed so fucking real … like I was right there with the kid. And this time I felt what he did. Maybe it's an effect of my painkillers … vivid dreams and such."

"Tell me."

Trailing the cool, damp rag over his face, a tremor went through Trent again. He met Sonny's gaze. "A huge guy slammed his head into a table when the kid tried to escape a little room. It didn't make much sense … everything sped by so fast becoming a blur. He ended up in another room, strange, narrow, with tables on both sides. Then something hit his back … and he was on fire."

"Fire?"

Trent swallowed and hesitated. "Not fire as in flames … like electricity flowing through him … searing all his nerve endings. He was in terrible pain before he blacked out." Trent shut his eyes. "God, I sound like a lunatic, but fuck … what if it is real?"

Sonny blew out a breath. "Then we find the fuckers and mete out justice a thousand-fold for hurting our brother. Kid's strong. He's gonna hang in there until we figure out who and where they took him. Blackburn and the rest will be here in the morning. Think you can go back to sleep?"

His eyes flicked to the clock, and Trent noted it was four in the morning. "Jason and the others find anything?"

"Only that the police think the avalanche was manufactured and security video at the station which goes fuzzy … which means the kid was the intended target all along. Whoever did this have resources aplenty."

Trent's heart wrenched. "All those people dead, just to take one? Shit, they are ruthless. Any ideas floating around as to who and why?"

"Some, but we're gonna let Mandy and her team do the digging on the ideas. You, my brother, need your rest. They'll be here about nine." Sonny returned to his bed. "So, try to go back to sleep."

"Yeah, okay."

As he lay down, Sonny added, "And if you visit the Twilight Zone again, tell Toto we're coming for him."

Trent couldn't help the tiny smile that came to his face. He would've lost the bet, had he wagered when the kid first joined their team. Never in a million years would he have suspected Sonny Quinn would become so close with Clay Spenser. He initially believed they were as combustible as a lit match and gasoline and as compatible as oil and water.

And for himself, Trent wondered if this might be some weird telepathic link to the kid or just his drugged mind and wild imagination making up shit. The latter made the most sense to his scientific mind, but either way, this twisted gut as much as every time the kid did something heroically stupid and ended up injured.

As he drifted to sleep, Trent recalled the first time Clay saved his life. The night they went after Nazeri, and the kid saved him by taking down the target who almost knifed him in the back … while suffering from a kidney infection. _Yeah, Sonny's right. Kid, you are strong. Hang on, we'll find you, and if you're hurt, I'll take care of you._

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland –** **Bed and Breakfast – Dining Room**_

Orange juice in hand, Trent sipped, as Jason filled in Blackburn, Mandy, Alpha Team, and Lester on what they found on the video and what the police sergeant told them. Trent chose to keep his little trip to the Twilight Zone to himself, and thankfully, Sonny didn't inform them.

Mandy stared at Jason. "They found evidence explosives were planted and set off to cause an avalanche?"

Nodding, Jason reached for his coffee. Though he slept last night, it had been fitful. "Yes."

After yawning, Lester Thomson, Mandy's lead tech wizard, downed the last of his black coffee. "I'll head over to the cable car station. I want to start on the video. I might be able to tweak it and find an image of the mystery man. If they wanted Clay, it is likely they stalked him and acted when the timing worked to their advantage."

Mandy added, "If Clay had a tail, which seems highly likely we need to go to all the places you guys visited since you arrived. Some of them might have surveillance cameras, and we might get lucky."

"Do you think he is still here somewhere? If not, the only way out is via taxi, train, or bus. Perhaps we should check with those places." Brock broke a piece of toast in half and handed one part to Cerb who lay on the floor beside him. He slept until Jason rapped on his door, and he rushed down, still dressing, not wanting to miss the discussion, and as such had not fed his pup yet.

Eric considered everything before saying, "Let's map out a search plan, and when the rest of support arrives, we'll split up and cover everything much faster. For now, you men need to eat and make a list of everywhere Clay went. While you do that, I'm going to the police station to chat with Sergeant Taubert. We will need their cooperation in obtaining video from local businesses."

As everyone nodded, a man cleared his throat, and they all turned to the doorway. Jason stood as he recognized Tom Friedrich, the leader of the search party.

"Excuse the interruption." Tom's face showed sadness as he focused on Jason. "We found your friend about thirty minutes ago. Orange jacket, green hat. I'm sorry, he isn't alive." Tom didn't get the reaction he expected. Five men all reached for phones as they stood and five phones we're shoved in his face, all showing a blond man in the colorful garments.

Jason spoke for them all. "Does he look like this?"

"No. He has brown hair. And the facial features are nothing like that … he's clean-shaven." Again, Tom was taken aback by the whoops of cheering and smiles. "Is that not him?"

Eric took the lead as he said, "No. That isn't Clay. I need to know where the body was taken. We need a photo."

"He was taken to the morgue. I can show you there if you wish."

"Yes. Thank you." Eric started forward and turned back to Bravo. "We're going to find the kid and obtain justice for those killed by this heinous act." He strode away as his mind twirled with whether this might be connected with them going after the IIB, and if so, the avalanche could be considered an act of terrorism.

* * *

 _ **Train Bound for Belgrade**_

Tabasi finished buttoning his shirt as he stared at Spenser. His target now fully strapped down. He disliked that he underestimated the man last night, but that wouldn't happen again. He moved to the table and opened his briefcase, stopping to smile at the passports he had made. The forgeries would be undetectable … though using his son's real name, Akcay Tabasi, for Spenser left a bad taste in his mouth.

Withdrawing a prefilled syringe, he injected the mixture of muscle relaxer and tranquilizer into Spenser's arm. A light rap on the door called his attention, and he went to answer. Opening only slightly, he spied the conductor. He anticipated a visit after the scene in the dining car last evening. "May I help you?" he spoke in fluent French.

"I needed to check on your son and ensure we won't have a repeat situation. If he is a threat to himself and others, you will need to leave the train in Belgrade instead of continuing to Sofia."

Tabasi swung his door open wider and assumed a saddened expression. "As you can see, I've taken the necessary precautions. He will remain restrained and medicated for the remainder of our travel home. I had a father's hope he would be okay, and against my better judgment, I reduced the sedative yesterday. I won't do so again until he is safely home. My apologies to those who were frightened by his behavior."

Noting all four limbs of the crazy man were secured with soft cuffs, the train conductor nodded. "Okay. See that he doesn't get loose or I will stop at the nearest station and require you to disembark for the safety of the other passengers."

"Understood." Tabasi shut the door and strode over to the tray his lead bodyguard, Dinc, brought for him. He sat and lifted his green tea as he selected a piece of melon.

He was now down one man. Ferit failed by allowing Spenser to escape and had been forced to consume an entire bottle of tequila and then in the wee hours, Dinc ensured Ferit tripped and fell off the back of the train. If his body was ever found, it would appear to be a tragic accident.

And Ferit wouldn't be connected to him since they came aboard separately. Tabasi only traveled with Dinc and Ulker as his official guards. The rest booked as individuals and maintained anonymity, following their strict orders — all well-aware of the penalty for screwing up or not following through.

He made that clear with both Ferit and Tek in the past few days. He ordered Tek to don Spenser's clothes on the slope and be a decoy. Tek deserved death because he failed to keep Akcay, Korer, and Vedat alive. The previously trusted man believe he had been forgiven when he provided the image of the man responsible for killing them, but Tek was unaware of his impending death sentence via avalanche.

Tabasi ruled with an iron fist and fear … no one who displeased or failed him survived. Many he put to death quickly, but Spenser, he would enjoy torturing for a long time … perhaps even years. He popped the melon into his mouth and chewed as he thought about creating a life for Spenser where he would beg for death on a daily basis.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Trent's Gut, Mandy's Thoughts, and Taylor's Puzzle**

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland –** **Bed and Breakfast – Dining Room**_

Mrs. Ginette Mallet, the owner of the bed and breakfast, allowed them to make her dining room their command center. The grandmotherly woman possessed a kind heart and Clay had worked his magic on her the first day they arrived. She hoped they found him and was thankful he had not perished on the mountain with so many others.

After a late afternoon nap, by order of both Jason and Blackburn, Trent wandered downstairs and into the temporary TOC. One table was filled with five laptops, and three of the tech guys had their eyes glued to monitors as they scanned video footage brought to them by the others scouring the town. He snagged a glass of iced tea and several cookies and found an empty seat next to Mandy. "How's it going?"

Pausing the tape, Mandy turned to Trent, noting the dark circles under his eyes appeared somewhat diminished. "Wish I had better news for you … but nothing solid yet. We have noted several people around Clay in various places, but with as small as this town is, it could be only coincidence. Lester is running facial rec on them, but again, nothing flagged.

"The man with black and white hair is almost ghost-like. He must possess a keen sense or had prior knowledge of where cameras are located because all we ever get is the back of his head."

Trent nodded. "What about the taxis and train station, any sign of Clay on those cameras?"

"No one fitting his description. Jason and Ray are speaking with every taxi driver … not too long of a list, but locating each one is taking a bit of time. Sonny and Brock are interviewing the bus drivers who worked since the avalanche. Alpha and the support team are canvassing the area with Clay's photo and asking everyone if they've seen him."

"What about an ID on the guy wearing Clay's jacket … and is it actually Clay's or did the guy just happen to be wearing the same clothes?"

Mandy pushed a photo to Trent. "This is the man. His name is Tek Uzer, a Turkmen. His passport and papers found in his hotel room indicate he worked for a melon export company, and unsent postcards found in his room indicate he was here on holiday. Additional digging is needed to validate that. As for the clothes, nothing indicates they are Clay's, but forensics will be checking them for trace elements."

"You mean DNA?"

"Yeah. But that will take several days. The Swiss police will be sending them to a lab in Zürich. That's all for now." When Trent took a bite of his cookie, Mandy turned back to her computer.

Trent chewed slowly as he considered the progress … or lack thereof in finding Clay, and he toyed with revealing something to Mandy, not wanting her to think he was loco. "Um, Mandy?"

"Yeah." She continued to scan the footage, but when Trent didn't proceed, she stopped and turned to him.

"This is going to sound like I'm touched in the head, but … is there any way to possibly find out if any hotels or rental properties have blue carpet with a vine texture?"

"I'm not sure. Would be quite difficult. Why?"

"Just a gut feeling … something which came to me before the candlelight vigil … like Clay might be held in a room with carpet like that. It probably means nothing. Sorry for wasting your time." Trent stood and came face-to-face with Mrs. Mallet.

"I'm not eavesdropping, but as I brought in more cookies, I overheard your question. My friend Norbert rents a home on the other side of town. Last summer, after the flood, he had to replace his carpet. I helped him pick it out. It is blue with a swirling black vine pattern. I can give you his number and address if you think it might help find that young man."

Trent chuckled. "Yes. Please. Thank you."

"You're not going—" Mandy rose, but Trent cut her off.

"I'm not staying here."

"If you let me finish, I was going to say you can't go alone. You are still recovering, and if there's trouble, well, I'm coming with you, and you're going to call Jason before we go."

"I'll be back in a jiffy with the details." Mrs. Mallet toddled out, beaming at how all of these people seemed to take such good care of one another.

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland –** **Rental Home**_

While waiting for Jason to arrive, Mandy stood as Trent lowered himself to the front step. She noted even mild exercise still left him winded and wondered how the heck Trent managed to stay on the mountain helping so many people for over twenty-four hours. The men of Bravo were a marvel to her. They had a capacity to put their pains and exhaustion on the back burner when lives were at stake.

Although she never intended to become close with men she sent into dangerous situations, Mandy now admitted, at least to herself, every last one of them claimed territory in her heart. Jason had breached her fortification first, surprisingly followed by the most tightlipped member of the team. Perhaps it was Cerb who helped Brock break through her defenses.

The third was Ray. She appreciated his ability to always have Jason's back and provide a level-head when the team started to go off the rails. It was almost fitting that fourth was Bravo Four. The man worked tirelessly to care for his brothers. She often found his nose in a medical text while flying to or from a mission.

Sonny came fifth … his larger than Texas … balls to the walls … no holds barred approach to life oftentimes confused her. Especially after she glimpsed that below the gruff exterior beat the heart of a true warrior and teddy bear. A strange mix, but it suited the Texan to a T.

The last, even after Blackburn and Davis, was Spenser, but that might be expected since he was the newest member and she worked with the others much longer. Her first interaction with Clay had been when he was ticked off about being called a strap and Davis denying him the ability to hang a hammock when he joined Bravo as an interrupter for one mission before he graduated Green Team. He initially came off cocky … too brash, not in Sonny's confident manner, more like a testy and querulous child trying to prove he was better than everyone.

The mission where Carlson put the kid at risk was the turning point for her. She, like the rest, assumed he came aboard drunk and she treated him terribly … not something she was proud of by any means. And from there, mission after mission, she began to recognize he backed up all his cockiness with talents … ones which saved his brothers and completed the objective on many occasions.

Sometime during the Mexico operation is when the blond kid wormed into her heart. She cried crocodile tears, once alone, of course, after viewing the picture of him hooked like a tuna. She also recognized how Clay changed the entire team. He brought something to the table they all needed, but had not realized … he made it alright for them to be human.

None of them would ever be truly touchy-feely types, no one in their line of work could afford to lower their shield completely, or they would be eaten alive by the horrors they witnessed and the people they lost. But with Clay, his desire for a family … his need for one … for brothers and sisters … his almost innocent vulnerability when knocked for a loop, touched each of them.

Spenser would always be a dichotomy to her, much like Sonny. Mandy believed, no matter how old he became, Clay would never lose the kid moniker. There was a little boy reflected in those blue orbs who occasionally begged to be held, loved, and wanted, and his brothers never failed to come through for him in his time of need. And at the same time, those eyes revealed the soul of a man with true grit, honor, and fortitude willing to give everything he possessed, his life included, to protect his chosen family and the country he loved.

Mandy sighed, hoping her talents would produce what everyone desperately wanted. This time she was not searching for some low-life terrorist, but for a little brother, she never expected to have. She wouldn't rest, she would work as tirelessly as Trent had on that mountain, to find Clay so Bravo could bring him home where he belonged.

Trent rose as Jason and Brock approached. "About time."

Jason ignored the snippy remark, mostly because he agreed, but in reality, he had been on the other side of this town and with only a few electric taxis, the only readily available transportation were his own two feet. "What makes this place hit the radar, Mandy?"

She peered at Trent, leaving it to him to explain … or not.

"If it pans out, I'll tell you, if not, let's chalk it up to painkillers."

Brock chuckled at Trent's non-explanation and trotted up the stairs behind the others. Mandy knocked and was met by Mr. Norbert Foster, who ushered them in. Cerb strained on his lead once they entered and tried to go up the stairs. "May I go up?"

"Ja." Norbert nodded and turned to the pretty lady as the man with the dog and another headed up the staircase. "Ginette said you are looking for someone."

"Yes, a friend. We believed he perished in the avalanche, but now it seems he may have been abducted." Mandy pulled out her phone and showed him a photo of Clay. "Have you seen him?"

Shaking his head, Norbert said, "Nein. He did not rent my place."

Jason stepped in, "Can you describe the person who rented?"

Norbert pursed his lips. "Tall. Swarthy. Broad shoulders. Black hair. Brown eyes." Scratching his throat, he added, "He and two others stayed here. Said they wanted a quiet, private house. Didn't like the hubbub of hotels. I suggested a rental shop when I noticed they didn't come with ski gear, but he said they weren't here to ski and only planned to do some hiking … commune with nature … that kind of stuff."

"Did you meet the others?" Mandy asked.

"Nein. I gave him the keys when he paid cash for two weeks."

"Did he give a name?"

"Something strange … think it was a nickname. Tinc, Chinc, maybe Dinc. Goodness, I'm terrible at names and well, he paid almost double my normal rate, so I didn't ask too many questions."

"If they paid for fourteen days, why aren't they here now?" Jason peered around the room as he waited.

"Said something about one of them getting sick and they needed to take him home. Didn't ask for a refund, and well, more boon for me since I can rent it earlier than expected."

Mandy hated this was not netting what she hoped. "When did they leave?"

"Day after the avalanche. Left the key under the mat."

Jason and Mandy shared a glance. The first thing of import. Whoever took Clay wouldn't want to stick around for long. Trent's holler from upstairs caused Jason to pivot and take the steps two at a time, while Mandy and Norbert followed at a slower pace.

Trent stared at the blue carpet with a vine design where Cerb lay down and whimpered, rubbing his snout … a clear indication to both him and Brock he caught the kid's scent.

Jason bolted into the room. "What did you find?"

"Kid was here. Cerb wouldn't alert unless he found a trace of him." Brock noted Trent's thousand-yard stare. "Trent, buddy, do you need to sit?"

"No." He turned to Jason. "Fucking Twilight Zone."

"What?"

Trent raked both hands through his long hair and dropped to the bed. "Day of the vigil, when we all broke off after Sonny's toast, I went to the porch swing."

"I remember." Jason sat next to Trent. It was unlike Trent to be anything but focused … always on, but perhaps he needed more rest. His body did go through significant trauma only seven weeks ago.

Glancing at Mandy, not wanting to share in front of her, Trent turned back to Jason. "Need to tell you something … in private."

Mandy took her cue to leave. "Mr. Foster, would you show me the rest of the place?" She ushered the man out.

Brock started to turn, but stopped when Trent said, "You can stay … you should know too … in case I'm losing my mind." After shutting the door, Brock waited with Jason for Trent to talk.

"Okay, this might be the drugs talking, but the carpet," he pointed down, "I saw it before. The kid was lying on it, bound, gagged, and calling out to us to save him … pleading us to find him. Jesus, it felt so real, but I must've been dreaming. How could he scream for me to find him with a rag in his mouth?"

"Well, perhaps—" Jason started, but Trent continued.

"Last night, I woke in a cold sweat, my back burning, my arms and legs tingling, and my head throbbing. I dreamt of Clay again. I'm pretty damned sure they hurt him. I think they tasered him in the back after slamming his head into a table when he tried to escape." Trent stared at Jason. "Am I losing my fucking mind? None of this should be real … but this carpet … this is what I saw, and Cerb scented the kid."

Brock shrugged. "Don't believe in God, but Ray might say he had something to do with this. Perhaps you are just attuned to the kid's suffering. He does turn to you when he's hurting — sort of like how Cerb and I can communicate without words. Hell, we can almost read each other's minds on missions … so maybe this isn't so farfetched."

Jason nodded and placed a hand on Trent's back. "Don't think you're ready for the loony bin. Be it a vision, a hunch, a gut feeling, it led us here, and now, we can talk to the taxi company and check if they picked up someone here yesterday. If one was sick, it is unlikely they would walk to the bus or train."

A light rap on the door interrupted them, and Mandy poked her head in, her expression telegraphing she located something significant. "You need to see what I found."

The three men and dog followed her to the hall bathroom where she waved her arm for them to enter.

First in, Jason peered around the clean and neat space, not understanding the importance. "What?"

"Look in the trash can." Mandy's face broke into a smile as Jason gaped.

"Shit!"

"Jace?" both Brock and Trent said.

Turning the can so they could view the contents, Jason said, "They cut and dyed his hair."

Everyone stared at blond locks, the same shade as Clay's hair, and a box of black hair dye. Trent grinned as Brock patted him on the back. Now they had something to go on. A time they left, and now they would be searching for a raven-haired kid.

* * *

 _ **Train Bound for Belgrade – Dining Car**_

Taylor Ward picked at his tartiflette, a rustic dish consisting of thinly sliced potatoes, smoky bits of bacon, caramelized onions and oozy, nutty, creamy Reblochon cheese, as his mind kept replaying the scene last night. He had been sitting at the farthest table, but still had a clear view of all parties involved.

As an investigator with Interpol's Terror division, Taylor's sense something was off nagged at him. The half-dressed man appeared quite adamant, and the large thugs tasered him when he was no threat to anyone. He was only speaking, disagreeing with the older man.

Closing his eyes after lifting his Earl Grey tea, Taylor tried to recreate the image of the younger man. Short black hair, blue eyes, light-skinned with a slight ruddiness to his cheeks, muscular, various scars … a large one across his ribs, and tattoos. One of which resembled a dog's head with a trident on his inner bicep. He spoke both English and French fluently.

Focusing his mind's eyes on the older man. Salt-and-pepper hair, brown eyes, thick brows, darker complexion, dressed richly in a tailored suit, spoke English, French, and something which sounded like a dialect heavily influenced by Arabic and a tad similar to Turkish and Azerbaijani, but not exactly. He wished he had a better grasp of the various languages, but relied on his team of interrupters to do the heavy lifting of translations as he put the pieces of the puzzles together.

He liked nothing better than to sink his teeth into a tough issue – one reason for this trip to Istanbul. He was following up on something for a beautiful, brown-haired CIA agent with whom he enjoyed collaborating with on several occasions. As he analyzed this situation, one thing which didn't add up to him was the two men looked nothing alike, yet the man claimed to be his father.

Taylor supposed the son could be adopted. But there was something else, something he couldn't put his finger on. The young man's eyes … so blue … so earnest … desperate to be believed. And the tattoos and scars intrigued him. Taylor sipped his tea before lowering his cup.

He covertly shifted his attention to the well-dressed man now consuming his dinner and speaking to the same man he dined with yesterday. They spoke English now, and their conversation on the surface appeared to be trivial and superficial. But oftentimes dialog could be coded to give the illusion of normalcy and mundaneness. Taylor cracked one such code which led to the capture of el-Samad, a mid-level sect leader in the IIB after sharing the details of decoded chatter with the beautiful Ms. Ellis.

Listening to the accented voice, it hit Taylor. _The younger man spoke with a different accent … American if I had to place it, while this man's accent is altogether different. How could a son have a totally different inflection?_ He decided to pay attention since he overheard the man's destination was Istanbul, the same as his. Perhaps if he managed to engage him in casual conversation, he might suss out the truth.

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Penalty for Talking**

 _ **Train Almost to Belgrade – Private Sleeper Car**_

Lashes flickered, lifting part way and closing several times before glazed blue orbs became visible. Floaty and tingly, Clay blinked trying to make sense of where he was and why the world seemed to tilt one way then the other. His tongue darted out to lick dry, cracked lips, so thirsty his throat felt like the Taklamakan Desert … an arid wasteland. He managed to croak, "Wa … r"

Tabasi snorted as Dinc rolled Spenser in order to put the shock devices on his other wrist and ankle. The dog-like shock collars he brought would come in handy for subduing his target as they transferred trains. They would be invisible under his clothing, so if Spenser tried anything, he would simply zap him and it would appear like he experienced a seizure.

"When is the last time you gave him anything to drink or eat?" Tarek el-Samad popped a grape in his mouth as he observed Tabasi's muscle-bound guard manhandle Spenser, dressing him after putting on the tazer-like devices.

"He doesn't deserve any." Tabasi sipped his cold tea.

"You do want him to live so you can torture him. It's been several days … he needs at least a little water."

Begrudgingly acceding the point, Tabasi rose and took his tea with him. Dinc halted and stepped back when told. Tabasi stared down at Spenser who remained quite woozy. He hadn't wanted to stop the tranquilizers or muscle relaxers, but this afternoon when they repressed Spenser's respirations to a dangerous level, he didn't have a choice. He had other drugs, but he must wait until these worked out of his system before using them or he would end up with the same result … and Spenser didn't deserve an easy death.

Unable to focus, his head throbbing, still in a foggy netherworld caused by three days with excessive amounts of drugs coupled with no food or water, Clay tried to lift his hand towards the figure. "Wa … ter."

Tabasi slipped his hand behind Spenser's head and tilted the cup, letting tea dribble into his mouth. "Behave and I will give you some. You are not allowed to speak or move by yourself. Try anything and you will regret the result."

Although not processing the words, Clay swallowed greedily as the sweet liquid touched his tongue, and wanted more after the flow stopped. His headache spiked as the tender bump on the back of his head smacked the mattress when dropped. Confused by Trent's treatment, the medic might be brusque and efficient in his movements, but never unkind or unduly rough. "Mor …Trnt … thrs..t"

"I told you not to speak. I warned you." Tabasi reached for the controller and depressed the button.

Voltage surged through Clay at four points causing his body to jerk and twist, flopping like a fish out of water. When the tentacles of electricity running along his nerves began to peter out leaving heat traces which stung, Clay moaned in pain. Upon opening his eyes, he finally realized he was not in the care of Trent … his brothers hadn't rescued him yet … he was still in the clutches of a man he didn't know. His voice thin and thready, Clay said, "Who are—"

White-hot electricity raced through him again as the man only sneered. This time when the twitching stopped, tremors continued to ripple up and down his limbs, which left him too weak to talk. He realized he shouldn't have bothered to ask since the man certainly wouldn't tell him.

Turning to Dinc, Tabasi instructed him to finish dressing Spenser. He went to sit by Tarek. "Works well. I'm going to enjoy using this to control him."

Tarek laughed. "You are one man I would never cross. I'm glad you are my friend. Spenser will pay for killing your sons and for capturing mine and sending him to Guantanamo. Akcay, Korer, Vedat, and Suwailim will be avenged."

As the train came to a halt at the Belgrade station, Dinc lifted Spenser into the wheelchair, used the padded cuffs to secure his legs to the footrests, and covered him with a blanket to hide the restraints. The last item put on him was a ball cap with the brim pulled low.

"If you talk, you will experience more pain and people will only think you are having a seizure." Tabasi showed him the controller. "I will not tolerate disobedience nor hesitate to cause you substantial pain."

Tarek left before the others and noted many of Tabasi's men positioned all throughout the train station. Tabasi was a careful man, but vengeance made him behave more recklessly than usual. In the past, he would've sent his minions to do his dirty work and stayed safely in Turkmenistan.

Though he understood why since a father's vengeance was personal. Tarek's pain stemmed from his only son being captured in Samara after Spenser chased him across rooftops. Those who watched and reported back to him and Tabasi said the soldier stuck out because he was blond. They only learned who he was after Tabasi's three sons were all killed in Simir when they went to set the trap for the US team wreaking havoc on their organization.

Akcay had his eye pierced by a knife and his throat slit, while Vedat and Korer were shot in the back … all three dying in the open field with several other members of the IIB. Tabasi vowed to seek revenge on the entire team … starting with the blond.

Well, Spenser wasn't the first to die … Frank Isaksson met his end in prison. If not for the timid turncoat, the IIB wouldn't be on the radar of all international terror watch groups. The turd-ball sent the photo of Spenser hanging from a hook in Mexico to the SEALs girlfriend which tipped the scales and resulted in his arrest and exposure of IIB. The stupid man paid for his crimes against IIB at the end of a twisted bedsheet.

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland –** **Bed and Breakfast – Dining Room**_

Tension in the dining room packed with Bravo, Alpha, Sierra, Blackburn, Ellis, and three techies reached an all-time high. It seemed to all they took two steps forward and one step back all day long. Their earlier hope of finding a firm lead on the kid's whereabouts fizzled with every passing hour. The tower clock in the hallway chiming ten p.m. was the only sound as everyone re-scoured the footage searching for a black-haired man with Clay's facial features.

Thus far, no one found a single trace. Jason checked his phone for what seemed like the thousandth time, waiting for a text or call from the taxi driver who picked up the fare at the rental home. Unfortunately, Theo Iff, the cabbie, left yesterday evening to visit his family in Toffen, which is located about ten kilometers south of the city of Bern. Iff's boss assured Jason he would contact his employee and communicate the urgency to call him.

Until they talked with Theo, they couldn't confirm anything beyond the destination of the ride that Theo logged as the train station which provides rail service between Zermatt and Täsch. From Täsch they could go almost anywhere, and it would be like trying to find a specific snowflake on the Matterhorn without a description of said flake.

Terrance, Sierra Six, tapped his teammate on the shoulder and tilted his chin towards, Trent. Scott nodded in understanding, rose and stretched before taking a direct route to Bravo's medic. "Hey, time for a hot shower and bed. You want to take the opportunity to rest now, cause Clay's surely gonna need you in tiptop shape when we find him."

Trent furrowed his brows. "What makes you say that?"

"It's Clay … trouble magnet and toothsome, towheaded, truehearted, Tier One hero wrapped into one body. Truthfully, I've never known anyone who gets trounced more than him. Damn glad Spenser keeps getting back up. But part of the reason he can is you and the care you provide. So, march your butt up those stairs, take your meds, and go to sleep. Jason will wake you if anything actionable comes in."

Sonny snickered. Scott could be as hard-assed a medic as Trent, and it was fun to watch Trent being talked to like a truculent kid for once. Usually, it was him or Clay on the receiving end from Sawyer when they didn't follow his advice. "Past your bedtime, Trent. If you don't listen to him, I'm sure Scott won't let you have your milk and cookies tomorrow."

"Go," Jason said as Trent turned to him, expecting him to counterman the directive, but he agreed whole-heartedly with Scott. If he hadn't been so focused on other things, he would've sent Trent to rest a few hours ago.

Conceding he wouldn't be receiving support from anyone, Trent eyed each of his team, assessing their states, and decided one good turn deserved another. "You all need to rack out too."

Before his men could protest, Eric stated, "Trent's right. Bravo, Alpha, time for shut-eye. Sierra will continue working, and in a few hours, we will rotate. Jace, hand over your phone. I promise to wake you if Theo makes contact."

By the tone the lieutenant commander used, every man on all three teams recognized Blackburn would make it an official order if they didn't comply. Eleven tired men and one dog reluctantly stood and trudged off towards their rooms upstairs.

It would be a tight fit, but they were all now staying at the bed and breakfast. After dinner, Mrs. Mallet happily gathered cots, extra bedding, and pillows from neighbors and friends. And now the former two-person rooms were set up to accommodate four or five. She refused to charge extra for lodging everyone but agreed to reimbursement for the food.

* * *

 _ **Belgrade, Serbia – Belgrade Train Station Platform**_

Taylor Ward pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses as he took up a position on the platform to observe the man of interest. He failed to find a way to engage him in conversation because he and the other man retired to their private car after eating. He gleaned little from the dialog he overheard at dinner and decided the best thing to do would be to covertly snap photos of them and the supposed son, which his gut leaned heavily to not being the case.

He didn't know if he was dealing with a personal grievance, a routine kidnapping for ransom, or something more nefarious such as human trafficking. Whatever was going on, he decided to send the photos to Mandy since the younger man sounded American to him. If he had possessed a British accent, Taylor would've sent them to his contact in Scotland Yard.

Adjusting his unassuming tweed jacket, Taylor tried to appear to be a tourist taking photos of the new train station. He preferred the old Belgrade station built in the 1880s; it had character, this one which opened in 2018 was clean, utilitarian, and totally devoid of style. When one of his subjects exited the train, Taylor managed to grab a face shot of salt-and-pepper-hair man's dining partner.

Pretending to take more pictures, a short time later a wheelchair appeared, pushed by a thickset, tall, and muscular man which Taylor wouldn't want to tangle with. Typically, Taylor rode a desk and left the fieldwork to his team. However, with Ellis' request to ferret out information in Turkey on a suspected IIB sect, coupled with the others on assignment elsewhere, he had to go himself or put off her entreaty until someone became available. With the inroads the Americans made lately on the IIB, Taylor decided it best not to wait or they might lose the information altogether.

Taylor easily captured the images of the two older men but had difficulty in getting one of the younger man in the wheelchair due to the cap pulled down covering his eyes and the way his head drooped on his chest. He tailed them from a distance and tried to think of a way to cause the man to look up. When they stopped, Taylor halted and leaned against one of the tiled pillars, contemplating several options.

The fogginess clouding Clay's mind began to dissipate, but the throbbing in his head never ceased, nor did the gnawing emptiness of his stomach which reminded him of his three days of SERE training while in Green Team. He received no food, and the only water he received during those days had been when they waterboarded him. Survive, Evade, Resist, and Escape training prepared him to think on his feet, or in this particular case on his ass, while under immense stress.

Evade and escape were off the table as possibilities at the moment. He didn't possess enough strength to stand, let alone walk or run, even if he could figure out how to get out of the leg restraints. His only options now were to resist and survive. The fact he was alive and his abductor went to the trouble of creating this ruse, meant he wanted him to remain so … at least for the present.

The metal contacts at his wrists and ankles still tingled with a pins-and-needles sensation from the earlier shocks. This man came prepared, but he underestimated him. Though agonizing, Clay determined he could withstand being zapped again. Resist became his best option, and Clay thought about what to say, knowing he would only be able to get out two or three words before they tasered him.

When they halted at the edge of the platform, and there were dozens of people milling around waiting to the train's arrival, Clay took several breaths, preparing for the onslaught of pain which would be inflicted. With tremendous effort, Clay tilted his head upward and shouted, I'M CLAY SPENSER, HEL—"

Clay's body seized, jerking as the voltage coursed through him. His torso bucked so violently he pitched forward, out of the chair, and onto the tracks below. With his ankles bound to the footrests, the chair toppled over with him. When he landed, his tibias hit the edge of the rails and the chair's armrest impacted his kidney, but searing electrical current overshadowed those pains and the ones caused by falling several feet and smacking his head on the concrete.

Bystanders gawked, gasped, and screamed. Tabasi put on a show of concern to cover his anger, barking orders at Dinc, and begging people to save his son before the train arrived and ran over him. When authorities questioned why the invalid was cuffed to the chair, Tabasi explained Akcay suffered paranoid delusions in addition to epilepsy, and they were necessary for everyone's safety. He used the same well-crafted story, and by the time the train pulled into the station, he convinced them all was under control.

Taylor took the opportunity to snap several photos, capturing a clear face shot as the man shouted his name, and three more as he was on the ground and hauled back up onto the platform and resettled in the wheelchair. He quit when a woman stepped forward claiming to be a nurse and pressed tissues to the cut on the now dazed, and semi-conscious man's forehead to stop the bleeding.

He listened to the explanation, and although the local authorities believed the man, Taylor didn't … it felt too contrived and convenient. He determined that once he took his seat, he would transfer the photos to his laptop and send an encrypted message to Ellis. Something was not kosher, but he needed assistance to extract the victim because his thin, wiry frame wouldn't be effective against the bulky men.

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland –** **Bed and Breakfast – Bravo's Room**_

Bravo ended up in the largest room, which contained a queen-sized bed, a pull-out couch bed for two, and a single cot. It also possessed an in-room bathroom suite. By unspoken tacit agreement, Trent was the first one sent to shower … after Ray made sure he took his meds. The others lounged around in various states of undress as they waited for their turn.

Trent allowed the hot water to cascaded over his aching shoulder, letting the warmth loosen tight muscles. He rubbed his side, where the bullet entered, damned lucky it missed his kidney. If he lost a kidney, he wouldn't have been allowed to return to operational status and would've earned a medical discharge.

He sighed, wishing for a longer shower, or possibly a soak in a tub. Images of Clay after Clayton almost drown the kid in the hydrotherapy bath came to mind. Wait, nix the bathtub. Scott is right. _The kid's suffered more than his fair share of injuries, and through no fault of his own attracts trouble with a capital T. If Spenser makes it to old age, he will be dealing with chronic pain given the shit he's been through … as will we all._

The life of SEAL was no cakewalk … something they all accepted. Reaching for the tap, a disturbing image of Clay popped into his head as searing pain encircled his wrists and ankles, causing him to scream as he crumpled and struck his head on the side of the porcelain tub.

Trent's painful cry caused four men to rush to the bathroom door at the same time. It would've been comical watching them crash into one another except for their need to go to a teammate in trouble. Without conscious thought, Sonny and Brock backed off to allow Jason and Ray to enter first. They hovered at the entrance as their leaders went to Trent who lay half-in and half-out of the tub … dazed and moaning.

Ray shut off the faucet and tossed a towel over Trent, to dry him a bit so they could lift him from the tub and lie him on the tile floor. He dropped it over his groin to preserve his modesty once they had him flat. Grabbing a hand towel from the rack next to him, Jason pressed it to Trent's forehead to stem the bleeding from a tiny gash.

"Should I go grab Scott?" Brock asked.

Coming around in time to overhear Brock, Trent winced as he said, "No. Give me a minute. I'm okay."

"Like hell, you are. When has it ever been okay to fall out of a shower? Unless you're hungover … which you ain't." Sonny drawled, concern filling his eyes.

"What happened?" Jason lifted the towel to check if the bleeding stopped and pressed it again when a little oozed out.

Trent met Jason's gaze, unsure if his team lead would require him to take a psych eval once he told him. "Don't have a fucking clue what is going on, but I'm damned sure they hurt Clay again. White-hot pain." Trent clenched his fists. "Burning pain shot through him, and then he fell."

Ray's brows arched. Jason shared the carpet story with him and Sonny, and they all at times had gut feelings … but this was something more. He wondered if God created a connection between Trent and Clay to help them locate the kid. "Did you see anything which might be useful in our search?"

His gaze shifted to Ray, as Trent said, "You believe me?"

"Yeah. I do. God works in mysterious ways, brother."

"Well, I for one would like it if he didn't cause Trent more pain and just came out and told us exactly where the kid is and who took him and why. I don't like puzzle games." Sonny moved forward. "Let's get you up and into bed."

With assistance, Trent moved to the covered toilet seat to sit while he dried off completely. On his assurance he was not dizzy, the guys left him to dress on his own. Once Trent re-entered the bedroom, Ray went to shower next, as Jason rechecked the cut on Trent's head and applied a small bandage. His head throbbing, Trent closed his eyes and tried like hell to remember any detail which might find his brother.

Over the next thirty minutes, they all washed up and were settled in their beds. The last to bathe, Jason switched off the lamp on the bedside table and blew out a breath as he lay down. Too keyed up to sleep, he stared upwards as tendrils of moonlight mixed with swaying trees outside creating ever-changing patterns on the walls and ceiling. He didn't like puzzles either, especially when it involved the lives of his brothers. After another ten minutes, he shut his eyes and started to drift, but a knock on their door, followed by its opening and light from the hall spilling in, brought Jason upright in bed.

Eric noted everyone except Jason lying down. He kept his voice soft as he said, "Theo Iff is on the line." Four other heads all popped up and Cerb turned to peer at him too, so his belief they had been asleep had been wrong. He strode over to Jason and handed him the phone.

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Technology Fails, Theories, TTM, and New Tactic**

 _ **Train Bound for Sofia**_

Taylor flagged down the English-speaking steward in his car, his frustration growing in the last twenty-five minutes. "Excuse me, I'm unable to connect to the wireless network. I've used the password given when I paid for the service."

"We are having trouble, and it is down."

"When will it be up?"

"I'm sorry, but it won't be on this leg of the journey. When we arrive in Sofia, a technician will board to fix whatever is wrong. We will refund your fee or apply it to the next part of your journey if you would like. Is there anything else you need?"

Taylor shook his head, and the steward continued down the aisle. He stared at his email and wished he could send it now, hoping to give Ms. Ellis time to research the men before they reached Istanbul tomorrow night. He contemplated sending them via phone, but the unsecure nature of them always made him uncomfortable.

In his line of work, he took rigorous precautions because the sensitivity of most of his communiques could result in death if intercepted. Taylor leaned back and sighed. Although he couldn't send his message for another ten hours, at least he had one. If he had flown to Istanbul instead of taking the train, that poor young man wouldn't stand a chance of being rescued.

A smile formed. _If all goes well, no one will tease me about my fear of flying anymore._ Taylor had taken his fair share of razzing because he refused to travel via plane … another reason he preferred his desk job over fieldwork. The time-sensitive nature of his work typically required a fast turn-around, so they didn't have the luxury of train travel to their destinations.

After closing his laptop and securing it in his case, Taylor reclined his seat to grab some sleep. Clay Spenser wouldn't be going anywhere for now, and neither would his potential abductors. When they reached Sofia, and if the internet was still down, he would figure out another solution … perhaps buying a burner phone to send the details to the beautiful Mandy.

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland – Bed, and Breakfast – Dining Room**_

Jason paced as Theo Iff spoke to Vance Thomason, one Mandy's techies who previously worked for the Tucson, Arizona police department as a sketch artist. In his short conversation with Theo, the taxi driver confirmed he picked up three men from the rental house and dropped them at the train station.

One thickset and scarily muscular guy … Theo's words, not his. The second was older, well-dressed, and the only one who spoke to him. Theo described the first two as possessing notably large statures, oblong-shaped heads, narrow faces, rather high foreheads, black hair, brown eyes, and relatively dark complexions. He also said the older man had a lot of white in his hair.

The third, by the picture now emerging, could be none other than Clay, except short black hair, clean-shaven, and no eye color. The kid being drugged troubled Jason the most. Theo related the tale told to him to explain why Clay was sedated. Whoever abducted him had gone to great lengths to plan … a tactician who apparently had resources.

Jason glanced over at Mandy, who had not ceased working since her arrival. She tirelessly worked her network and contacts, shifting her primary focus from locating the IIB leadership to finding one of their own … a priority she told him. Now in her hands was a drawing of the salt-and-pepper man. Hopefully, they would have a name to put with him, and once they did, it would be easier to determine why Clay was targeted, and where he took him.

One of the first theories Mandy followed was this might be retribution for putting Spencer Clayton in jail. It seemed somewhat plausible since Clayton knew they were in Spain, but he couldn't have known they went to Switzerland on a short holiday. Mandy and her contacts validated that Clayton and his family didn't possess the funds to enact something on this scale.

The next theory she investigated was any connection to Ash Spenser. Although Clay's father was dead and buried, the man's suicide in prison always seemed a little convenient and not something the arrogant Ashhole would do. But that trail fizzled out too.

Having been a SEAL for years, the kid had done many tours before joining Bravo, and completed a slew of missions with Bravo, so the field of possible culprits was vast. And there was always the niggling thought of Tibet and the fact the kid could've been the victim of human traffickers who preyed on tourists who fit the bill of some sick son of a bitch who would pay to own someone.

The last seemed most conceivable to Jason because their identities were well protected. It was one reason they couldn't alert the news agencies and plaster the kid's picture on the local newscasts. Everything they did had to be more covert, and in the shadows, so they could limit Clay's exposure and not compromise their anonymity.

"Jace?"

Stopping his pacing, Jason turned to Ray, the only other Bravo team member up. He made Sonny and Brock stay with Trent since they were all running on empty and needed rest. "Yeah?"

Ray rubbed the back of his neck. "Been thinking."

"Always good." Jason grabbed a refill for his coffee and sat across from his best friend. "Talk to me."

"Well, as we talked about before, this is too well-orchestrated to be random, but I started thinking about Mexico … and how Doza put a hit out on Clay. We've been hitting the IIB hard, and they set a trap for us in Simir. They had the kid strung up long enough to grab photos of him."

Jason nodded. "Thought about that too. They might've tracked us back to Spain, wouldn't be too difficult to bribe a few authorities to find out what plane we were on … especially since we weren't as covert as we should've been."

"Exactly what I was thinking. They could've sent people to try and locate us, or …"

"Or what?" Jason noted the intense expression, which meant the wheels were turning in Ray's mind.

"IIB's fundamental doctrine was more insidious and less visible. They focused on embedding people in positions of power to subvert from within instead of blowing things up. What if there is someone with knowledge of our whereabouts who provided the details."

Mandy turned to peer at Bravo Two. "One of the theories I'm exploring. Sensitive and difficult to ferret out if that is the case, but this might be a blessing in disguise. Not that I want Clay taken, but it might uncover a traitor. I've sent the sketches of the first two men to my most trusted contacts. With any luck, we will get a name, and from there a potential location." Mandy blew out a breath.

As Mandy started to turn back to her computer, Jason said, "You need to take a break. You've been at this for over twenty-four hours."

"I can't. I need to find him." Mandy reached for her coffee, needing more caffeine.

Jason snatched the cup from her. "Sleep. You sent out the pictures, and I doubt anyone will get back to you for several hours. You need a clear head, and that comes with some rest."

"You're not in bed, and Blackburn basically ordered you."

Ray chuckled. "He also promised to wake Jason when Theo called. I suggest we all hit the racks. We won't be any good to the kid if we're too tired to think properly." He stood. "Jace, you coming?"

Rising, Jason carefully yet firmly gripped Mandy's arm, pulling her to her feet. "Yep, we are."

Lester held in his snicker as Master Chief Hayes led his blustering boss out of the room. Ms. Ellis was a force to be reckoned with, and only Jason Hayes possessed the ability to make her do something she didn't want to do … by force or coercion.

Based on his earlier discussion with Mandy, he delved into the darknet again, searching the IIB site he found in Mexico … the one which posted the photo of Clay hanging from the hook. He hoped to find something which might connect Spenser's disappearance with the IIB.

* * *

 _ **Train Bound for Sofia – Private Sleeper Car**_

In utter misery, Clay lay as still as possible as the train sped onward. He tried to sleep last night to escape his pain, but his guard snored like, well, like a friggin freight train, and kept waking him. And when the sun rose what felt like an eternity ago, the light shining directly on his face caused thundering in his head. If he dared to open his lids, thumbtacks stabbed his eyes, sending shards of pain to the back of his skull.

Ever since his two-story plummet off the roof in Mexico, he occasionally suffered headaches, which made him want to curl up and die. Trent called them TTMs, or trauma-triggered migraines and gave him medication which knocked him out for several hours, and when he awoke, the symptoms usually disappeared. Smacking his head on the concrete in his attempt to alert people to his situation, constituted trauma in his book.

Clenching his jaw and gritting his teeth, Clay fought the need to throw up. It wouldn't be much, maybe a bit of watery bile, but the dry heaving would suck. Every muscle in his body ached from being tasered and his fall. His lower legs seemed swollen where they struck the train tracks. He had no idea if he fractured his tibias, because one, he didn't dare lift his lashes or head to peer at them since light and movement tormented him, and two, there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it if they were.

He hated the fact he was now in boxers only, not sure why the man kept undressing him. Licking his dry, cracked lips, with an equally parched tongue, Clay wished for more water. After strapping him to the bed last night, they only gave him a few sips, not near enough to slake his thirst, scarcely enough to wet his throat. Although afraid of taking morphine for fear of becoming addicted after his stint in Tibet, he also wished Trent was here to give him something to take away his pain … even morphine if that was all he had.

Trying to focus on something other than his all-consuming agony, he conjured up the faces of his brothers. Doubt tried to creep in, but he refused to let it take hold. Jason, Ray, Sonny, Trent, Brock, and Cerb would not rest until they found him. Well, maybe a little, because quite frankly it had been multiple days, though Clay had lost track of how many.

The snick of the door opening told Clay someone entered the little room. This one different than the last where it only had two twin beds with a small space between them. He heard something being set down but couldn't bring himself to open his eyes and experience the torture that came with sunlight.

From further away, his abductor spoke in a language he didn't understand, and a hot wet towel dropped on his face and was roughly moved around. The big dude rubbed hard where his forehead split open, causing it to sting … one more thing to add to his list of suckiness.

When a large hand gripped his jaw and turned his head, Clay tried to pull out of the painful grasp until the man spoke again, but in English. "Hold still if you don't want Dinc to slit your throat while shaving you."

Clay now had a name for the huge guy, Dinc, but couldn't figure out why they would be shaving him as he felt a straight razor start to tug across his unlubricated skin. The burning sensation of a dry shave got tagged onto his growing list, but he held still, mostly because the little movement amped up his nausea and the throbbing in his skull as his brain tried to escape through his ears and his stomach through his throat.

The voice came closer and said, "We will be switching trains again soon. Do not attempt the same stunt, or I will turn the voltage up to ten. Six is quite painful, but ten will be excruciating."

Clay didn't respond in any manner. Hell, yeah, he would repeat his stunt knowing full well the price he would pay. He needed to do something, even as small as yelling his name in a crowd because that might be the crumb his brothers needed to pick up his trail. Mr. Taser-man didn't have a fucking clue what he already endured and how much he would withstand if it gave him the slightest possibility of thwarting this asshole's plans for him.

When the shaving finished, Clay recalled his hair had been dyed black and realized why they groomed him. His blond, two-day stubble wouldn't match the darker hair. A hand slipped behind his head, touching the tender bump, and he held back a moan, just barely.

"Open … tea." Tabasi tilted the cup containing sweet tea and poured it in fast, causing Spenser to gag and choke as he tried to swallow. He looked forward to waterboarding him once he had him in Turkmenistan. Watching the murderer of his son gasp for air would be some recompense for Akcay's last moments when his eldest son bled out after Spenser slit his throat. Part of him wanted to take the razor and inflict multiple slices, but for the ruse to work, Spenser had to remain presentable.

As Clay drew in a breath once the flow of liquid stopped, he felt Dinc unbuckle the restraints on his ankles and wrists. Clay lost his control over his twirling stomach as his leg was lifted and pain shot up and down from his shin. He spewed what he just consumed as his abdomen muscles clenched.

Though he had not intended to target Taser-man, the language gushing from him needed no translation … anyone would cuss a blue streak if someone puked on them. The punch to his gut only exacerbated his need to vomit, and he dry heaved for several minutes.

Believing he couldn't experience a pain level above ten, he was proven wrong when Dinc grabbed his other leg right where it smacked the rails. A scream, which might've come from him, sounded far away as a tornado spun Clay into blessed oblivion.

* * *

 _ **Sofia, Bulgaria – Train Station**_

Taylor hurried back across the street, dodging traffic in his haste to return to the train station. The layover between trains gave him enough time to go to the shop a few blocks away and purchase two burner phones with cash. He required a backup plan if the internet was down on the next leg.

So, he ditched his initial tactic to talk with the older man and hatched a new one which prompted his recent purchase. Stopping in the men's toilets, he entered the stall and proceeded to unbox both phones. He wrote down the phone number of one and activated it. After switching the language to English, he went into settings and put it on silent mode and made a few other changes before slipping it into his left trouser pocket. After activating the second one, he put it in his right pocket next to his personal phone.

Exiting the restroom, he tossed the bag with the packaging materials in the trash and made his way back to the platform. If his strategy to slip one phone to the man who claimed to be Clay Spenser and contact Mandy with the other was going to work, he needed a way to do it without arousing suspicion. As he roamed the area where passengers mingled waiting for the Istanbul-bound train to arrive, Taylor spied Clay and shoved his hands into his pants pockets to wipe off his sweaty palms.

Cloak and dagger was not his forte. Give him a computer, a puzzle to solve, or a person of interest to dig into their background, their finances, or track their movements, he was your man. Taylor's heart developed a tachycardia rhythm, beating well over a hundred times a minute, making him a bit lightheaded, so he leaned against a pillar to assess his options. As his pulse slowly decreased, an idea came to him, and he smiled. _That will do the trick._

Palming the tiny cell phone, he withdrew the one from the left pocket. As Taylor approached Clay, trying to make it appear he was simply walking towards a bench next to the wheelchair, he didn't have to fake his rapid heart rate. He kept his eyes away from his true destination, noting the tough-looking man standing behind Clay. The guard's attention was on three well-endowed teens in skimpy attire, and the salt-and-pepper-haired man appeared to be engrossed in a conversation with the man who dined with him two nights ago.

 _Now or never._ Taylor gripped at his heart with his right hand as he pitched himself forward with a loud moan. Landing on Clay, with his left-hand hidden underneath his body, Taylor realized he would have to thank his brother, a magician, for teaching him sleight of hand. Taylor slipped the phone into Clay's suit pocket before allowing himself to fall to the ground as he moaned, "Water … need my meds."

Tabasi only stared as several people rushed to help the scrawny man. His gaze turned to Spenser, noting he appeared to be still unconscious. Dinc's rough handling, which Tabasi didn't care about, apparently caused Spenser to blackout and he hadn't regained his senses. Not wanting to be in the thick of the turmoil, he told Dinc to bring his son and give the ill man space. He stopped a fair distance away and pulled out his cell phone. _Time to make sure my private plane is fueled and ready for when we arrive in about ten hours._

Taylor popped two aspirins, before thanking the people who assisted him up onto the bench and provided him water. Adjusting his glasses, which had been knocked askew, he assured them he'd be alright, only needed to sit quietly until the train arrived. Once alone, he retrieved the second burner phone in his right pocket, typed a short cryptic text, and sent it to Ellis.

Debating whether to snap a picture and send it, Taylor decided against doing so and switched off the mobile phone. Mandy would now be aware he had more info to share and would be sending an encrypted file soon.

As the train arrived and people became more interested in boarding, Taylor withdrew his hanky and wiped his prints off before slamming the screen on the concrete bench, destroying the device so it couldn't be traced to him. On his way to his coach seat, he ditched the pieces in a trash barrel and let out a heavy sigh.

* * *

 **Chapter 7: Turkish Delight, Trip's Text, and Hot On His Trail**

 _ **Train Bound for Istanbul, Turkey**_

People talking around him was the first thing to filter through Clay's hazy mind. Second, he realized he was sitting upright in the wheelchair instead of laying on a bed. The tight strap across his torso, holding him in place, confused him for only a moment but realized Taser-man would surely play it off as a measure to ensure his safety after what occurred earlier.

The throbbing in his skull lessened, only slightly, but the pain seemed to have migrated to his legs. Every beat of his heart brought a pulse of pain to his left shin. His neck ached from the weight of his head hanging down and forward on his chest. In dire need of water, his thirst beyond anything he ever experienced, Clay considered opening his eyes to scan his area before taking any action.

Little by little, he cracked open his lids, letting in sunlight. Thankfully, thumbtacks and daggers didn't attack him and make him wish he could die. He managed to lift his eyelids about halfway, and noted he sat at a table … well, more or less, since his wheelchair had been pushed close to one. Across from him sat Taser-man with his attention on the open laptop in front of him. To his right was a window and to the left, Dinc, chowing down on food.

Although starving, the aroma kicked up his nausea. People sat at other tables, chatting and ignoring the three at his table. Apparently, Taser-man must've told a tale again to explain why he was strapped to a chair. Clay figured if he was here with them, this portion of the journey didn't afford a private car.

He eyed the glass of water and the plate in front of him, both full. So he supposed the man was still claiming him to be his ill son. Feeling the telltale metal rods pushing at his wrists and ankles told him he would be tasered again if he spoke. Clay had to think … reviewing his SERE training.

Survive became more critical than resist. His level of dehydration was reaching a dangerous point, and Clay needed to find a way to get water. Talking was out of the question so he couldn't ask, but as he tried to move his right hand, he found neither arm to be bound to the chair under the blanket covering his lap and hands.

With painfully slow movement, he began to reach for the glass of precious water. His palm made contact before either of the two men noticed, and he caught their glare. He remained stock-still, unsure if he would be zapped. Whatever may have happened, likely changed as a slim man with wire-rim glasses bumped into their table garnering the glares of his abductors. Clay took advantage of their momentary distraction and brought the water to his lips, greedily drinking as fast as he could swallow.

Taylor kept an eye on Clay ever since he found him in the dining car. When he noticed the man's eyes open, and him going for water, he decided to intercede and see if he could engage him in conversation, especially since he had not received a reply in the past five hours from Mandy. He hoped she received both his text and email, but he couldn't be sure.

"Pardon me. I'm so sorry. I'm still a little lightheaded. Please, if you would allow me, I would like to pay for your meal … the least I can do for falling on the young man at the station." Taylor shifted his gaze to Clay. "I hope I didn't harm you."

Clay had no clue what the man was talking about. He met Taser-man's gaze, worried if he answered he would be plunged into agony again. His need to speak ended as the salt-and-peppered haired man responded.

"My son is fine. No harm was done, and no need to pay for our meal." Playacting, Tabasi plastered a fake smile as he continued to peer at Spenser. "Good to see you woke from your nap. I hope you like what I ordered for you."

Clay decided to play along since getting nourishment would help him survive. If he didn't eat when the opportunity presented itself, he might not be alive when Bravo came for him. He nodded, and set the empty glass on the table, wanting more, but unable to ask without punishment. Help came from an unexpected source again as the thin man smiled at him.

"Looks like you are thirsty." Taylor waved to a server. "Please bring a water pitcher to the table … this young man requires a refill." Returning his gaze to the older man, Taylor wondered again what was afoot and if perhaps he called this wrong since the younger man remained silent and the older seemed solicitous to his needs.

Pretending to become woozy again, Taylor sagged towards the empty chair. "Do you mind?" He sat before waiting for an answer. "My heart tends to race lately. My doctors don't give me much more time, and I'm trying to check off as much as I can from my bucket list before, well, … so I'm on my way to Istanbul. I'm a history buff and always wanted to visit Topkapi Palace, the original palace of the Ottoman rulers.

"Oh, and the obelisk of Theodosius which was originally erected in the old hippodrome of Constantinople during the 18th dynasty by Pharaoh Thutmose III." Taylor chattered on about nothing as Clay consumed another full cup of water and tasted the tandoor kebab on his plate. Taylor earlier enjoyed the same meal of lamb pieces served with bread and raw onions. By the way Clay ate, Taylor recognized he was hungry but wary, so Taylor kept his attention on the older man.

Tabasi finally interrupted when the unwelcome intruder paused, "We shouldn't keep you."

Taylor smiled and went full-tilt into his crafted, clichéd, touristy persona intending to remain for as long as possible. "Oh, I have nothing else to do. Traveling by myself is a little boring. I love meeting locals. Do you live in Istanbul?"

"No."

"Oh, your accent, well, it sounded like you might be from Turkey." Taylor hailed the waiter, and when she approached, he asked, "Do you have any more of that fabulous Turkish Delight and Baklava, the filo pastry is to die for? If so, please bring enough for four and some of that terrific sweet tea."

After getting a grin and nod from the server, Taylor turned back to the others and continued his trifling monolog. He noted a few furtive glances from Clay and had trouble holding back his smile as Clay finished a third glass of water and wiped up the last bit of sauce with his bread.

When the desserts arrived, Clay took a chance and reached for the treats. By now, he figured as long as he remained silent, Taser-man would allow him to eat and drink. The tawny-haired visitor, a godsend if there ever was one, poured tea for him and the others. His stomach no longer cried for sustenance, fully sated, and the extra calories from the Turkish delight, which was basically sugar, and the Turkish baklava made with sugar syrup, pistachios, and lemon juice would sustain him for several more days.

His patience coming to an end, Tabasi said, "Thank you for the treats, but if you will excuse us now, we need to return to our seats." He stood and gave Dinc instructions to communicate with Ulker to have him watch the talkative tourist and report back to him if anything seemed out of the ordinary. He rounded the table and grabbed the handles of the wheelchair as he leaned down and whispered so only Spenser could hear, "Hope you enjoyed your last meal. By tomorrow you will be begging me to kill you."

Clay put his hands in his lap, and as he did so, he brushed up against something in his pocket. He kept his face neutral and would wait for a chance to investigate without Taser-man observing. Hope soared as he considered what the tourist did for him. He began to wonder if the pain he experienced by calling out his name had brought much-needed help his way in the form of an unknown British tourist.

* * *

 _ **Zermatt, Switzerland – Bed and Breakfast – Dining Room**_

Refreshed from nearly twelve hours of sleep, which she desperately needed, Mandy entered the dining room ready to get back to work. Part of her felt a tad guilty for sleeping so long, but she trusted her techs to continue the efforts to find Clay. And Jason was right … her brain was now crystal clear rather than thick as mud.

Since it was well past noon, pushing closer to two o'clock, Mandy snagged three tiramisu truffles and a tart-apple turnover drizzled with icing. Mrs. Mallet spoiled them with tasty treats, and Mandy knew she would have to work off all the extra pounds she likely gained while grazing on the ever-present delights.

She nodded to Eric, who appeared to have finally caught forty-winks himself. "Where's Bravo?"

"Sent them out back to work off their tension. Waiting isn't their strong point, especially when the kid is involved." Eric rose and went to refresh his coffee and grab a couple more of the truffles.

Taking her seat, Mandy noticed her phone, and couldn't believe she left it down here. She pressed the button to activate it and found it dead. Grumbling, ticked at herself for both leaving and not charging it, she plugged her cell into the cable attached to her laptop. She popped a tiny truffle into her mouth and chewed as she booted up her computer.

While she waited, Mandy peered over at her guys. "Anything to report?"

Dejected his search turned up nothing, Lester shook his head. "The darknet was a bust. No mention of Clay, or Bravo team, or any hint they might be involved. Whoever is leading them now, is taking more precautions than the previous leaders."

Ten minutes later, after finishing her turnover, Mandy picked up her now partially-charged phone to check for missed calls and texts. A few contacts sent messages, sadly not finding anything useful on the sketches she sent out. She noted one from an unknown number and opened it to read.

 **Found a potentially lost puppy on my way to Istanbul and need your help to find his owners. Check email. Will await your directive. Thanks in advance, Trip.**

Mandy recognized the sender. Trip is how Taylor Ward III, a trusted friend, and contact in Interpol always signed his messages to distinguish himself from his father and grandfather who were both Taylor Ward too. With all three still living, it avoided confusion at Ward family gatherings … one was called Senior, the other Junior, and then there was Trip.

She had requested he go to Istanbul to follow up on a potential connection to IIB. There was a plane which arrived in Niger the day before the trap set for Bravo, and it left the day after. Her source in Niger indicated three dead bodies were loaded on and escorted by one person but couldn't give her the destination. All remote attempts to find out who owned the plane and where it went netted nothing, so Taylor was the first person she thought of who might be able to help when the same plane ended up in Turkey a few weeks later.

Her eyes scanned the text again, and her heart beat a little faster as she reread 'lost puppy' and realized she had not sent the sketch to him or told him about Clay missing. _Jesus, my mind was muddled last night … I should've contacted him._

Turning to her laptop, she pulled up her email and located an encrypted one from Taylor with several attachments. She was lifting her coffee as the first image displayed with a man in a wheelchair with a caption that said, 'Claims to be Clay Spenser' followed by two more, showing Clay on train tracks and then back in the wheelchair with blood running down his face.

"HOLY MOTHER THERSA!" Mandy yelled as her coffee cup slipped from her hand and spilled on her lap. The shock of Clay's photos along with the burning liquid sent Mandy tumbling out of her chair and onto the floor.

Eric rushed to help her, wondering what happened but his eyes caught the photos and he stilled for a fraction of a section as his brain comprehended. "JASON, FOUND SPENSER!" he bellowed as he pivoted and ran for the back porch.

* * *

 _ **Train Almost to Zürich, Switzerland**_

For the last three hours, Sonny did his best to tone down his bull in a china shop attitude brought about by the fact they would be arriving in Zürich at the same time the kid would be pulling into the train station in Istanbul. At times like these, he wished for the transporter from Star Trek. First, he would beam his little brother to a hospital and send Trent there too. Then he would beam himself and the others to go after Hamid Tabasi, Tarek el-Samad, and the rest of the IIB bastards.

Right after reviewing the email from Taylor Ward, who Sonny would've probably kissed and hugged if he were in Zermatt with them, more details began falling into place. It was as if a dam broke and they were inundated with information. But for Sonny, the only data which meant anything to him was Clay's location.

His team leader recognized his tension, and as such tasked him with monitoring the blip from the GPS program tracking the cell phone Taylor slipped to Clay. It was the only tangible link to their brother, and Sonny wished his white-knuckled hold on the laptop was actually gripping Toto. The kid didn't have any ruby slippers to come home, but they sure as hell now possessed a yellow brick road to follow to bring him back.

Trent reached for his backpack for the tenth time in the last three hours. His mind kept reviewing the things Taylor related about Clay. He had been tasered in the back. His eyes appeared glassy … so probably drugged to the gills. Clay had wolfed down food and water when Taylor managed to intercede in the dining car, and the kid's lips were dry, indicating dehydration, so likely not fed much since being taken.

Clay suffered what on the surface appeared to be a seizure and fell off a platform to the concrete below. The head wound seemed minor, but with as many times as Clay struck his head or received concussions, Trent worried about the cumulative effects of traumatic brain injury. At the very least, the kid would be experiencing a TTM.

"Trent, you don't need to check again. You have everything you requested." Scott shifted in his seat, assessing Bravo's medic with keen eyes. On the one hand, he didn't like that Trent came since he was not cleared for active duty, but on the other, he was damned glad to have him aboard because Clay would trust Trent the most to tend to any injuries.

"I want to see if I got the migraine meds."

Scott stopped Trent's hand. "Yes, you did. And the non-opioid painkillers, and everything else you deemed necessary before we left … and I added a few more items." Scott chose to use a little humor to help distract Trent as he said, "The only thing we are missing is a portable Dr. Irving."

Trent sucked in a breath. "Shit. What are hospitals in Turkey like?"

Scott groaned as his tease utterly backfired, and he gave Trent something else to worry about. He started to reassure him but stopped when Ray interceded.

"Doesn't matter, brother. We'll be taking him with us. Taylor's last communication with Mandy indicated Spenser is awake and alert. Plus he was well enough to eat, so I doubt much will change before we arrive."

Jason paced at the rear of the car as he listened to Ray calming Trent. Their tactics were limited, especially since they were not authorized to operate hot in Turkey. The blur of activity after Mandy received Taylor's email, and then subsequent data rolled in, made Jason glad everyone was well-rested.

They discussed travel options, which weren't great, and determined to have Blackburn go with Alpha, the techs, and half of Sierra back to Rota, load their gear and take the team's plane to Incirlik Air Base in southern Turkey. From there, Eric would man HAVOC and direct resources where needed and work to greenlight their rescue mission. Bravo, Mandy, and three of Sierra, Rob, Terrance, and Scott were taking the train to Zürich where they would catch a direct commercial flight to Istanbul.

Both routes would require ten to eleven hours of travel, by which time, Clay would've been in Istanbul for nine to ten hours or on his way to another destination. Jason hoped the cell tracker remained with the kid, or they might be following a false trail. And from what they gleaned about the salt-and-peppered haired man, Jason wouldn't put it past Tabasi to do something of the sort.

Jason turned his gaze to Mandy, who refused to take the time to change out of her coffee-stained clothing as she gave her full attention to pulling together details from many sources. The tsunami of info flooding in after viewing Taylor's photos began to click for their CIA agent, but their big break came in the form one the sweet lady, Mrs. Mallet.

When she brought in fresh coffee and tea, she happened to spy the photo Taylor took of Tabasi. She recalled him staying a single night and provided them his name … Hamid Tabasi. At Mandy's direction, Lester turned his attention to finding out everything he could on the man and learned he was the chairman of a government-owned gas and oil company in Turkmenistan.

The fact Tabasi was conversing with the father of Suwailim el-Samad allowed them to theorize a connection between Tarek el-Samad, Tabasi, and the IIB, which were confirmed via other sources. As theories go, Mandy was now working on connecting dots, believing Tabasi might be one of the top members of IIB, if not the actual leader.

Though, some things still eluded them. W _hy was Clay taken? Why the elaborate ruse? What do they want with him? Is the IIB trying to lure us into another trap? Do we have a traitor in the chain of command?_

Jason's thoughts were interrupted when Cerberus nudged his leg. He peered down then crouched and rubbed his belly. "We're gonna get our boy back. I might let you have a taste of Tabasi."

"Woof." _Yes. I'm ready to bite his arm off or sink my teeth in his throat if Brock lets me._

Brock joined Jason and Cerb and leaned on the wall. "Do you think Tabasi is planning on taking Clay to Turkmenistan?"

"Seems most likely."

"Then the chase is on."

"Yep." They dropped into silent thoughts again, each wishing, just like the others that they could already be in Istanbul and snatch Clay when he exited the train. Though hot on his trail, they were so close, yet still so far from their brother.

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Unwavering Trust**

 _ **Turkmenistan – Tabasi's Compound**_

Unable to bear weight on his left leg, Clay assumed his tibia must be fractured, but the swelling on both lower legs hurt like hell. His emotions were in turmoil, fluctuating from high and low, positive and negative as he tried to send his mind to a safe place. The beach with Brian would be preferable, but he kept getting pulled out of it.

Taser-man had not lied … the man seemed to draw immense pleasure in torturing him. Thus far since arriving in Turkmenistan, having gleaned the destination when Taser-man's comrade let the end-point slip as they boarded a private plane, Clay's life had been nothing but misery. Dinc and another burly man started by undressing him again, tying his hands together with thick twine and threading a chain under the rope before hoisting him up so his toes scarcely touched … not that he could hold his weight.

Once secured, they started in with an old-fashioned thrashing. The punches mostly landed on his soft zones, but the repeated blows in the same places hurt like hell, especially when they targeted his flanks near his kidneys. One drawback to being able to drink water is that he peed himself and had to deal with the taunts from both Taser-man and the other man.

Clay lost track of time, drifting in and out between rounds of beatings, waterboarding, and being tasered. For the most part, he was able not to give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing how much pain he was in by gritting his teeth and swallowing scream after scream. Though, he couldn't stop all of them when a particularly hard strike to his gut caused him to throw up what remained in his stomach, coating Dinc in vomit. The involuntary reaction earned him a deliberate kick to his left shin, and as he shrieked, his world dissolved in a thunderstorm of pain.

Waking sometime later, Clay still hung from the rafters while his torturers sat at a table eating. His shoulder muscles ached as did his entire body. At a low point, wishing he were dead already, unsure if he could take any more torture, Clay croaked out, "Why? Just tell me why?"

Tabasi stood and strolled over as he finished his tangerine. "You want to know why?"

"Yes."

"I will tell you." Tabasi motioned to Dinc, who brought forth a sword. "Do you recognize this?"

Clay stared at the scimitar for a few moments then turned his gaze back to the man. "No."

"You should." Tabasi laid the blade across Spenser's throat wanting nothing more than to slash his jugular.

Tensing, believing this was the end, Clay wished he kept his mouth shut. Time appeared to have run out, and his brothers would be thoroughly ticked at him that he didn't keep quiet longer and caused his death before they could reach him. He wasn't sure who put the phone in his pocket, but he would bet it was the tourist … who might be more than only a good samaritan. But now he would never have a chance to use it to call Jason and tell his team he was in Turkmenistan.

"You killed my sons … all three. You shot two in the back and slit the throat of my eldest after throwing your knife and stabbing him in the eye. Vengeance will be mine. An eye for an eye, a life for a life. Though, in truth, you owe me three lives.

"Therefore, you will suffer for years." Tabasi drew the sharpened blade across Spenser's throat, putting only enough pressure to produce a shallow cut from one side to the other.

As blood trickled down his neck and torso, Clay tried to place the three he supposedly killed, and the only memory of knifing someone in the eye was the mission in Simir … the scimitar-wielding tango he took out as he tried to exfil from the trap.

Tarek chewed his last fig and rose as he said, "My son is in prison because of you."

Spenser Clayton came to mind, but he didn't think this man resembled the coward. Curious and unable to stop himself, Clay asked, "What is your son's name?"

"Suwailim el-Samad."

Clay's eyes widened. _How the hell does he know I'm the one who caught el-Samad on the roof?_ His mind rolled with possibilities, and he landed on two facts. These men were with IIB, and there must be a traitor who told them who he was.

The last made his stomach turn, but the jolting electricity coursing through his body ceased all further thoughts. Awash in total agony Clay let go to the conscious world and slipped down the rabbit hole once more.

* * *

 _ **Bravo Plane**_

Jocked up and raring to get their kid, Jason, Ray, Sonny, Brock, Cerb, Scott, and all of Alpha team pre-breathed oxygen, preparing for their HAHO jump into Turkmenistan. Taylor tried to buy them time by brokering a deal … well, more like trying to bribe an air traffic controller to delay Tabasi from getting flight clearance. Unfortunately, fate had other plans, and it didn't work, they still arrived too late in Istanbul to stop Tabasi's plane from taking off.

So, they boarded a commercial flight to Incirlik Airbase to meet up with the others. They continued to track the phone, and when it stopped in a small village in the southeastern part of Turkmenistan, about five miles from the border with Afghanistan, they flew to Bagram Airfield near Kabul and received the green light for the rescue mission from Admiral Droit.

Trent had been tetchy after learning he was not allowed to jump with the others. Jason assured him they with Scott's help could handle Clay until they got him across the Afghani border, where Trent would be waiting with Sierra team and the exfil helos. This was to be a zero-footprint, rescue and a kill-capture op with Clay's retrieval their primary objective.

Though Mandy had not fully vetted her theory, she did believe Tabasi was in the right position to be the leader of the IIB. Bringing him in alive would useful to torpedo the entire organization and cut off their funding, but she would understand if they had to take him out to save Clay.

The airman gave the signal they were nearing the drop zone, so they all stood and prepared. Scott grinned as Brock fitted the green mask with the vicious teeth design on it over Cerb's snout. Tangos subjected to his fangs would never believe how cuddly Cerb could be with his pack. He sorta hoped the hair missile got to sink his canines into Tabasi.

As they lined up the rear of the plane opened and they walked off into the sky filled with thousands upon thousands of stars twinkling in the moonless night.

* * *

 _ **Turkmenistan – Tabasi's Compound**_

Having roused twice more, and been subjected to another round of waterboarding and tasering, Clay now hung in the center of the room soaking wet, shivering, and all alone. His arms had long ago gone numb, which was a small blessing, but every time they lowered him to lay him on the plank to smother him with a cloth and pour water over his nose and mouth, they came back to life … with thousands of stabbing pins and needles.

Time held no meaning in this windowless room. It could be day or night for all Clay could tell. Somewhere between the last tasering and Tabasi leaving, Clay found a place to go to in his head and managed to stay there. He never would've believed his safe place would be so simple … the inside of Bravo's plane.

It was where he felt safest, surrounded by his brothers, by their laughter, by the teasing and terrible jokes, by the beers handed out after completing a mission. The one place which was home to all of them … where they geared up, patted each other on the back, trusting each one would cover their six so they all came home. Where hammocks gently swung, cocooning and lulling them to sleep … well, until Sonny started snoring.

He refused to give up and say goodbye. Not yet. His brothers would come. They always did, no matter if he was lost in the deepest darkest jungle, floating in the middle of the ocean, on some remote island, or in a country which could start World War III if they were found operating in it. So his brothers finding him in the middle of a godforsaken desert somewhere in Turkmenistan was not out of the question.

Clay only hoped he could hang on, so they didn't arrive to find his corpse. He had done what his training taught him … to attempt escape, to resist, to survive, but that might not be enough. But even if he didn't make it out alive, he would be going home. His chosen family would never leave him behind … never. They would come guns blazing to save him.

Drifting back to the plane's interior and gazing around at his brother's faces, Clay hoped to be going home swinging in his hammock instead of lying in a flag-draped casket. When the sound of gunfire erupted, Clay wasn't certain if it was real or imagined. With an enormous effort, he lifted his head as the door to the room burst open, coming fully off its hinges.

 _Real._

Sonny's face loomed in front of him as the Texan wrapped his arms around his torso and lifted to take the weight off his wrists and Jason pulled out a knife to cut the twine. "Knew you'd come," was the only thing Clay managed to get out before the pain of his arms being released tipped him over the edge of the abyss.

After Jason sliced the rope holding Clay, Sonny almost dropped Spenser when the kid blacked out. Jason shared a smile with Sonny upon discerning the unwavering trust implicit in Clay's three words. Without time to do more than help sling Clay over Sonny's shoulders, they were on the move again. Keying his comms, he said, "Bravo One to Havoc. Jackpot. Got the kid. Alive."

"Bravo Two to One. Two HVTs in custody."

"Copy. Moving to exfil."

"Alpha One to Bravo One, we acquired transportation, three trucks. Meet you on the east side of the building."

"Copy." Jason took point as they exited the room. Tabasi's stronghold had fewer military-aged males than they anticipated and as far as missions went, this was as smooth as they got, but until they got in the trucks, crossed the border, and assessed the kid's state, he wouldn't let his guard down.

Halting at the doorway, Jason took a moment to scan the area as his gut told him something didn't feel right. This was too easy and smelled of a trap. He spotted Ray with Alphas Four and Five leading two hooded men around the corner. Coming from the other direction and almost to their transport was Alpha Two and Sierra Two trailing Brock and Cerb. Alpha Three sat in the driver's seat of the lead truck with the door open as Alpha One maintained guard.

Three men all simultaneously reacted when Cerb stopped and sat. Jason shouted, "Get away from the trucks," as Brock pulled on Cerb's leash and they started running while Alpha One grabbed Alpha Three, tugging him out of the truck. The men and dog scarcely cleared the vehicles before a resounding kaboom rent the air and three balls of orange flame billowed into the sky as all the trucks exploded.

Brock, Cerb, and Alphas One, Two, and Three were lifted into the air by the concussive wave and slammed down on terra firma two seconds later as debris rained down on them. Brock managed to crawl forward and covered Cerb with his body right before a blazing tire would've landed on the hair missile. Instead, it hit his back with a solid, painful thud.

Gunfire erupted from the perimeter, as fighters flooded out of what Jason assumed to be underground tunnels since ISR had not picked up any signs before now. In the chaos, the highly trained men did what they do best, remained calm, sought cover, protected the injured, and swacked as many tangos as they could while Jason radioed HAVOC to call in the QRT.

They were able to fall back to a defensible position, and Sonny set the kid down in an alcove to help take out the enemy combatants. Brock carried Cerb and laid his pup beside Clay. He couldn't find any blood, but when Cerb tried to get up outside he whined and tipped over, so Brock scooped him up and brought him inside. He wondered if the explosion affected Cerb's ears, given with what appeared to be trouble with his equilibrium.

Ray hustled the HVTs inside and shoved them to the floor, directing Alpha Four to watch them as he and Alpha Five took up positions at a window and began firing to cover Full Metal as he dragged an unconscious Alpha Three towards the house.

Thankful for the cover fire provided by the other guys, Full Metal lay Nick in the same alcove as Cerb and Clay before turning to Jason. "Fuck … I should've checked them for explosives."

"We'll debrief later." Jason keyed his comms, "HAVOC, ETA on QRT."

"Three mics. Hold tight." Eric raked a hand through his hair as he eyed Mandy, both ticked about another trap.

"Copy. Holding."

Sierra Two moved to the injured, visually triaging each and although Clay was unconscious, he was breathing fine, and Cerb was awake … Alpha Three needed his help the most. The piece of metal sticking out of his neck needed to be stabilized.

Scott set to work with steady hands as he wrapped gauze around the shrapnel to keep it from moving. Luckily the wound was not bleeding too much, but if the fragment dislodged that could change in an instant, and they might lose Nick. Not something Scott was going to let happen to Alpha's medic.

Clay blinked open his eyes amid the turmoil. He spotted Cerb first, and although it hurt like hell, he couldn't resist reaching out to curl his fingers over a paw. Next, he noted Scott working on Nick, and his gut lurched at one of them being injured to save his ass. His throat dry, Clay rasped, "He gonna make it?"

Scott whipped his head towards Clay. "Yeah. Tricky place for shrapnel, but I think it missed his carotid artery. Talk to me, where are you hurt?"

"Lower left leg hurts most … shoulders … head."

"K, give me a moment, and I'll give you some relief."

The distinctive sound of helos approaching caused Sonny to return to Clay's side. "Can you walk?"

"No." Clay glanced at his legs at the same time Sonny did.

"Shit. I'm your ride. You're going home, Toto."

"Toto?" Clay coughed, his chest becoming tighter, likely due to inhaling foul water when they waterboarded him. _Damn, I hate the feeling of drowning._

"I'll explain later. Ready?" Sonny shifted his weapon to the side and prepared to pull Clay over his shoulder.

Not in the least ready, moving would send tentacles of pain through his entire body, Clay nodded, gritted his teeth, and hoped to god he didn't scream. Before Sonny lifted him, he noted Brock picking up Cerb. _Damn, the pup got hurt too._ His left shin knocking into Sonny's gear as he was tugged upward sent Clay back to never, neverland with an abbreviated shriek.

* * *

 _ **Helos Bound for Bagram Airfield**_

As Sierra team provided cover fire, Bravo and Alpha along with their HVTs, raced for the helos. It wasn't until they were airborne that Ray found Tarek el-Samad took three rounds to the thigh. Although he attempted to stem the massive hemorrhaging, the bullet tore the femoral artery and the terrorist bled out.

Sonny had sped to the helo with Trent, leaving Scott and Full Metal to take Nick to the third one. He, Clay, Brock, Cerb, and Jason all ended up on the same helo, and they made room for Trent to triage their kid.

Trent took one glance at Clay's left leg and deemed it to be the most significant injury. Though the right shin appeared swollen and bruised, the left was twice the size and hot to the touch. He didn't speak his worry to the others, but the kid might have developed a DVT.

Deep vein thrombosis could be life-threatening if the blood clot broke loose and traveled through Clay's bloodstream to his lungs and blocked blood flow, causing a pulmonary embolism. He started an IV and then dug in the extra supplies Scott had procured, hoping to find a blood thinner … but he didn't. He spoke with Scott over comms and found out he hadn't had time to administer pain meds, so he pushed those instead.

"We need to strap him to a stretcher and limit his movement, especially his legs," Trent shouted to be heard over the engines.

"Is his leg broken?" Sonny asked.

"Not certain, possibly. Don't press on the swollen areas. Be very careful."

"He was hanging from his wrists," Jason supplied.

"All the more reason to secure him." Trent shifted to allow the others to move Clay. His own shoulder not up to the task of carefully rolling Clay, but he held the kid's head as they positioned him on the stiff backboard and strapped him down.

The hour flight to Bagram seemed endless to those conscious. They all were thankful to have their treasured kid back, and although Clay opened his eyes twice during the flight, he didn't talk, which didn't surprise anyone given his battered condition. Brock cradled Cerb in his lap, petting the pup as Jason contacted Blackburn arrange for a veterinarian to meet them on the tarmac.

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Taking Care of Brothers … and Business**

 _ **Bagram - Tarmac**_

As the helicopters touched down, medical staff rushed out to meet them. Ray exited his helo, and after handing off Tabasi to the MPs to take to the detention center, he headed for the helo with Clay. He wanted a visual on the kid, wanted to ride in the same bird, but he did what was necessary by taking charge of the HVTs, allowing Jason to be with Clay.

Two corpsmen pulled Clay's backboard onto a gurney as Jason and Sonny hopped out the other side. Trent followed, grabbing his medical pack and began a litany of medical jargon to convey Spenser's status. It took all of two minutes before they realized Brock had yet to exit the helo to carry Cerb to the waiting vet several yards away.

Jason turned back to the helo noting Brock had not moved, nor had Cerb. "Brock?" The hazel eyes which lifted and met Jason's conveyed significant pain. Recognition lit Jason's mind as he simultaneously kicked himself for not checking Brock and yelled, "NEED A MEDIC OVER HERE!"

His shout brought Trent's head swiveling around as Jason, Ray, and Sonny surged towards the helicopter. Torn between going with the kid and responding to Jason's plea, he decided Spenser was in good hands, so rushed back to the helo. He arrived just as Sonny was lifting Cerb out of Brock's lap.

"What the hell happened?" Trent asked as he climbed back inside.

"Brock was close to the explosion," Ray supplied, only knowing that because Cerb had been hurt.

"Where do you hurt? And why the hell didn't you say something before now?" Jason crouched beside his man and placed a hand on his shoulder.

A slight groan escaped from Brock at the touch. "Adrenaline masked it … a tire hit my back when I covered Cerb."

"SHIT!"

"Where? Upper or lower?" Trent knelt close and waited.

"Both … big truck. I need to go with Cerb."

"Sonny will stay with him. You need medical treatment too."

"I won't leave the hair missile," Sonny stated. The pup was as important as any of his brothers. And although he wanted to be closer to Clay, he would take care of Cerberus for Brock to ease Reynolds' mind.

Trent turned to Ray. "We need a backboard."

"On it." Ray raced to one of the waiting ambulances and returned with corpsmen and a gurney in tow. Once Brock was secure to the board, his neck and head braced with Velcro straps and foam, they lifted him out of the helo and Trent went with him in the ambulance.

Jason and Ray stood a moment, shoulder to shoulder as they watched four ambulances drive off with Clay, Brock, Cerb, and Nick. Blowing out a breath, Jason said, "We need answers."

Ray nodded. "Agree. Something was off. Why would Tabasi and el-Samad be in the house if they planned the trap? Doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't. Hopefully, Mandy will be able to find out." Jason turned back to grab Brock's gear only to find Sierra Six taking care of it.

Rob came forward. "If you guys give me your gear, I'll secure it for you so you can go directly to the hospital."

Nodding, both handed over their weapons and vests, then moved to a vehicle. Explanations could wait until after they received word on their injured brothers.

* * *

 _ **Bagram Airfield – Craig Joint Theater Hospital**_

Sonny shifted in his chair and glanced over at Cerb, who snoozed in his kennel tucked in the corner of the semi-private room. With Blackburn's well-honed tactful words, rather than Sonny's tenacious Texan attitude, Jason's tetchy disregard of adherence to hospital rules he deemed asinine, Ray's thoughtful plea, or Trent's tenebrous mood, giving anyone who disagreed with him a sour look, the doctor had been convinced it would be in the best interest of both Brock and Cerb for them to be in the same room.

Although the kennel's door stood open so the pup could come out as desired, for the most part, he remained on his pad, curled up with t-shirts from both Brock and Clay. Cerb made two forays out though. One when they first arrived, when he did a belly crawl to sniff around Brock's and Clay's beds. Likely making sure his packmates were not in danger. The second happened about thirty minutes ago when he inched his way to Sonny and whined.

At first, Sonny couldn't figure out what the pup wanted or needed, worried Cerb might be in pain, but Ray, always the voice of reason suggested Cerb needed to relieve himself. Sonny scooped Cerberus up and carried him outside, and the hair missile proved Ray right.

Upon returning, Cerberus returned to his bed and promptly went back to sleep. Brock would be happy to learn the vet didn't find anything seriously wrong with Cerb. The impact when he landed left him with aching muscles, and she indicated the concussive effect of the explosion affected his inner ear, causing the balance issue, but he would be alright with a few weeks rest.

The same couldn't be said for Brock. Even considering increased adrenaline levels covered his pain, how he managed to carry Cerb twice with a torn rotator cuff tendon in his left shoulder confounded them all. The bruising and swelling were also significant, and in a circular-shape around his entire back. Based on Reynolds' injuries, the vet said Brock saved Cerb's life by shielding him from the forceful tire impact.

Brock underwent surgery to repair his tendon and would be out for several months while his shoulder healed. In a week or so, Brock would join Trent in physical therapy to restore their strength and motion. Luckily, the doctors here projected a full recovery, but only time would tell.

Sonny shifted his gaze to the kid. Clay was a total mess. The bastard Tabasi not only tasered him and beat the ever-living crap out of him, the toxicology report and blood tests showed he shot the kid up with several different drugs. This made reducing his pain tricky business since opioids were off the table. Images of Clay's suffering as he withdrew assaulted his mind as he remembered the doctor's concerns about needing increased levels of the medication and possible addiction due to what occurred in Tibet.

When Sonny spotted the dog shock devices on Clay's wrists and ankles, he wanted to wrap them around Tabasi's throat and turn the voltage up to ten. The repeated shocks caused minor burns where the probes pushed into the tender skin, but those weren't the worst injuries caused by being zapped. The fall from the platform had an explanation now, and it was the plunge onto the train track which produced them.

Though his tibias had not broken clean through, he did suffer hairline fractures in both, and a DVT developed in his left leg from the trauma of impact coupled with lack of motion as he was restrained. Sonny hoped the non-invasive treatment with heparin worked because the kid had enough shit on his plate already.

Sonny cringed when Trent explained to them what the doctor meant when he said he might have to do a percutaneous transcatheter treatment for deep venous thrombosis if the anticoagulant therapy didn't work. In laymen's terms, they would insert a thin, flexible tube into a blood vessel through Clay's groin. _Ouch!_ A wire would be threaded through his vein until they reached the clot and then they could remove it before the damned thing detached and traveled to his heart or lungs … which could kill him.

And speaking of his lungs, the polluted water Spenser inhaled during waterboarding caused edema in his lungs. The kid required a bronchoscopy to remove any residual liquid, and they placed him on oxygen. If lucky, the bronchial lavage performed while the kid was unconscious would prevent him from developing pneumonia. The nurses were monitoring Clay closely for signs of infection while waiting for the lab to test the cultures for organisms.

The doctor also worried about Clay's kidney function. The dark purple bruising on his back bespoke of where the wheelchair slammed into his right kidney and the additional blows he received in the thrashing meted out by thugs with hammer-sized fists. They catheterized the kid to measure his urinary output, as well as to visualize the presence of blood. Clay wouldn't like that when he woke, but with him not being able to walk to the bathroom, it would be less humiliating than pissing in a bottle while one of them held it for him.

And why would they need to hold it? Because the stress put on his shoulders and wrists as he hung for god knows how long resulted in strained muscles and both arms were now strapped down to prevent movement while they healed. The kid would be joining Brock and Trent for shoulder physical therapy.

The final injury was the blow to the kid's head when he fell. The likelihood of him experiencing future TTMs increased. That worried Sonny the most. He wondered if the kid would be cleared to operate with the possibility of suffering a migraine. He decided to leave that in Jason's, Trent's, and Blackburn's hands. They might become creative with the kid's medical records.

Sonny glanced up when the door opened, half-expecting Jason, Ray, or Trent, but it was the nurse.

Theresa gave the worried man a slight smile as she moved to Brock's bed. "I'm here to take their vitals, and I'll need you to step outside for only a moment when I check your buddy's catheter and empty the drainage bag. I'm certain he wouldn't appreciate an audience."

Sonny nodded and rose. He liked the nurse. She had a gentle touch and kind eyes. His brothers were safe with her. "I'll be right outside."

"Why don't you go grab a coffee or something to eat. I'll be in here for about ten minutes."

"Yeah, okay." Sonny ambled out and headed for the vending machine.

* * *

 _ **Bagram Airfield – Detention Center Observation Room**_

Jason squeezed one of Cerb's fetch balls in his hand to relieve his tension … better than smashing a fist through the one-way glass and going in there to strangle Tabasi. The man was a real piece of work … total shit … and he wished he could've swacked the asshole instead of bringing him in alive. Mandy continued to interrogate him but didn't seem to be getting any useful information.

He turned as the door opened, noting both Ray and Blackburn entering. "How's Nick and Trent?"

Ray took a chair and leaned back. "Trent's testy, but is remaining in the barracks to rest."

Eric threaded his fingers through his hair as he sat on the corner of a table. "Nick's going to be fine. The shard missed his jugular by a hairs-breath. He'll be recouping for a while though, like half your team."

Nodding Jason said, "I want to go after the IIB and annihilate it."

Knowing his decision would go over like a lead brick, Eric sighed. "Bravo is being sent home. Alpha will be taking over the rest of your deployment." He raised a hand as Jason opened his mouth. "You have a choice to make."

Jason eyed Eric. "Okay. I'm listening."

"One, you can go home and take a few weeks off before instructing at Green Team while Clay, Brock, and Trent rehab. Two, you can go home and take any refresher training you need. Three, you can go to San Diego and instruct BUD/S."

Crossing his arms, Jason squeezed the ball. "I think I like number four best."

"I didn't …" Eric trailed off. "What is your option?"

"Go home for a few weeks to make sure our boys are settled in and then me, Ray, and Sonny join Alpha in tracking the IIB and tearing their organization apart for good."

Ray nodded. "Personally, I like the fourth option the best, and I'm sure Sonny will too. He will become a loose cannon if he can't seek payback for all the lives lost in the avalanche and for what happened to Clay, Cerb, Trent, Brock, and Nick."

"Alright, I'll see if Harrington will approve. Either way, once the doctor clears Clay for travel, you all will be heading stateside."

* * *

 _ **Bagram Airfield – Craig Joint Theater Hospital**_

Twirling up from grayness, a foggy world with disconnected images, Clay struggled to make sense as he spun one way then the other. Faces morphed between his brothers and his torturers as pain rippled through his body. The tawdry laughter of Tabasi as he gripped his testicles and taunted him with allowing Dinc to rape him filled Clay's head as he moaned and tried to pull away, but found his arms pinned to his sides.

Theresa lifted the sheet to check the catheter's placement when the output was less than expected. She found the tubing kinked and with deft and gentle hands, began to adjust the placement as her patient moaned. "I'm sorry. I only need to make sure this is aligned properly. It won't hurt."

Clay's need to resist, unwilling to meekly submit to rape, allowed him to jerk to the left and kick out with his right foot. A scream echoed in his ears … uncertain if it was his or Tabasi's he kicked again, and then he was falling to the train tracks, landing in a painful heap as, "AAAARRRGHH," ripped from his throat, unable to swallow his pain.

Upon hearing Theresa's scream, followed by Clay's howl of pain, Sonny dropped his coffee, the brew decorating the floor as he slammed open the door and rushed in.

Theresa held an end of a tube in one hand as her other pressed to her stomach as she panted for breath … the kick to her abdomen wholly unexpected and painful. But her professionalism remained intact as she said, "He needs help. I think I startled him awake."

"Go, get help. I've got my brother." Sonny moved around to the other side of the bed as Theresa rushed from the room. Moving slowly, he spotted the wild-eyed fear in Clay's eyes. This wasn't his first rodeo with a panicked kid. The nightmares after Mexico and Tibet had been tough on them both, but he knew how to calm his little brother.

Pitching his tone soft, allowing the twang of his southern drawl to reign, Sonny used words which usually cut through the panic. "Hey, Kiddo, its Sonny. I'm coming closer. You're safe with me. You hear me? Safe." He knelt as Clay's eyes turned to him. "I got you, Brother. I'm here, and no one is going to hurt you."

His tilt-a-world decelerating, Clay tried to focus on the familiar and trusted voice. Tentatively, he said, "Sonny?"

"Yeah, it's me. I'm going to come closer. Okay?"

"Help me. Take me away from here. I can't move my arms."

"I know, Bucker-Roo. Your shoulders are hurt. It is to protect them." Sonny shifted so he could bring Clay's back to his chest and support him. When Clay's body began to tremble, he wrapped one arm around him and placed the other on Clay's head, stroking his black hair. "Shhh. You're alright. You are safe."

Still twirling and not quite with it, Clay tumbled out, "Don't let them touch me again. I don't want to be raped."

Sonny's eyes nearly bugged out of his sockets, and he was glad to be positioned behind Clay so the kid didn't see his shock which turned to fury which he managed to control because in the kid's state of mind he might believe it was directed at him. "I promise they won't touch you again. Not while I have a breath in me."

Several nurses and two orderlies entered, and Clay tensed in his arms. "Back. Give us a moment," Sonny stated as Clay turned his head into his shoulder, and his trembling increased.

Theresa nodded as she and her colleagues backed up to the doorway and out of sight.

"Okay, it is just you and me, Kid. Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere. I got your six."

A soft sob came from Clay as Sonny held him. Embarrassment might come later, but for now, he needed to be held, to be reassured he was safe, and the Mighty Quinn, his big brother, his staunchest ally, a grizzly bear with a teddy bear's heart was the one person he needed most.

Sonny didn't mention the tears, only embraced his kid brother, providing him the security the little boy inside needed … and probably the young man too after what Clay endured. When the tremors finally calmed and stopped, Sonny said, "You ready to move back to bed, Simba?"

"Where am I?"

"Afghanistan. Hospital at Bagram."

"The guys?"

"Brock and Cerb are your roomies … I'll tell you all about it later." Sonny spied Cerb belly crawling to them. "Your furry brother wants a pet."

"Which one?"

Sonny chuckled at the return of Clay's humor. The kid would be alright, but he suspected he had a rough road to travel again to get his head on straight … as would any of them if they had been subjected to torture.

"Cerb, you smart-ass."

"Can't pet him … arms don't work."

"Use your right toes … the hairball is at your feet."

Clay turned to peer at Cerb, and though it hurt he managed to stroke the side of the pup's face twice.

"Can the nurses and orderlies help put you into bed?"

"Yeah."

"Theresa, you can come in now."

In the following fifteen minutes, Clay was situated in his bed, pain meds administered, he was given the once over by the doctor to ensure he had not gained additional injuries or exacerbated existing ones in his tumble. The entire time, at Clay's request, Sonny remained beside him with one hand touching him, even as the dreaded catheter was reinserted, though they both averted their gazes, just something no guy wants to watch on themselves or another dude.

Sonny understood the kid needed a tangible link to the here and now, so he didn't slip back to there. After the doctor and nurses left, Sonny lifted Cerb onto the bed so he could cuddle up to Clay's side and provide an ongoing link. Sonny poured the kid water and held the cup with the bendy straw while he drank his fill. As Clay sipped, Sonny explained what happened to Brock, Cerb, and Nick during the rescue mission, and everything that transpired from the point Clay was taken in Zermatt.

Sonny recognized the sadness that crossed the kid's face when he learned how many people died on the mountain, but he reassured him that Tabasi was at fault, not him. He was shocked to learn the bits Clay shared with him about Tabasi's and el-Samad's reasons for taking him.

Once the kid was up to it, he would provide a full after-action report, so Sonny didn't push for more details when Clay's lids began to lower. He realized Clay was fighting sleep, so said, "Rest easy. I'm not going anywhere. I've got you covered, brother."

Not two minutes later, both Clay and Cerb were snoozing. Sonny resumed his seat and released a long breath. He leaned back and closed his eyes, needing a little rest himself. On the verge of sleep, he reopened when Brock spoke to him in a slightly slurry voice.

"You did good, Sonny. Thanks for taking care of him."

"Thought you were asleep?"

"His scream woke me. You had it handled. Didn't need me interfering. He's lucky to have a brother like you."

Sonny grinned. "Well, I won't argue with you. How are you doing? Need anything?"

"Nah, everything I need is in my hand." Brock depressed the button to dispense a measured dose of painkiller. It didn't take long for both men to drift off, and the room soon became silent, except for Sonny's light snoring.

* * *

 _ **Turkmenistan – Tabasi's Compound**_

Ulker Volkan exited the hidden bunker and surveyed the area littered with dead men. When he strolled into the house and found Dinc's body, he sighed. Dinc would be the only one he missed. Ulker befriended him years ago as he worked his way into Tabasi's network and into a trusted position. Some might call him a traitor, but Ulker saw himself as a true believer in the IIB's original doctrine.

Tabasi was a careful man, but not diligent enough. And this last bit with Tabasi seeking vengeance for his sons' deaths tipped the scales in his real boss's favor and played perfectly into their strategy. The coup would succeed with Tabasi out of the picture and in the hands of the Americans. Ulker only wished he could report Tabasi died and Tarek el-Samad survived instead of the reverse.

The el-Samads, both father and son, were martyrs in this intricately planned takeover of the IIB. Tarek played his part well, so well that Tabasi never suspected he was the actual target or that Tarek's son's capture had been the first step in the strategy to wipe out the more radical elements who seized control of IIB after Isaksson's arrest.

Tabasi's use of barbaric and indiscriminate killing did not match with the philosophy of the majority of IIB members. Tabasi almost ruined everything IIB worked for over the past thirty-nine years and had to be stopped. Tabasi's impatience, greed, short-sightedness, and need for retribution became his downfall.

Pulling out his encrypted cell phone, Ulker dialed, and when it answered, he gave his status report. The only part which didn't go as planned was the SEAL team left here alive. However, both he and his boss agreed the Americans would believe the IIB to be defunct after Tabasi's capture. After taking control, they would scale back IIB's agenda to facilitate moving their organization under the radar once again and renew their efforts to subvert from within without anyone being the wiser.

After taking the scimitar, Ulker exited the building, climbed into a car, and drove several hundred yards before depressing the detonator, blowing Tabasi's compound sky high and leaving a crater in the ground.

.

 _... To be continued in AI-U_

* * *

 **AN:** Hope you enjoyed the AI-T Clay Whump Train and the little twist at the end. Drop me a comment and let me know what you thought.

Evil muse still at work. This story will continue with AI-U ... working title at the moment is **Under the Radar** (but subject to change).


	21. Unfit for Duty

**Unfit for Duty**

* * *

 _Summary **:** After being rescued from Tabasi's clutches, Clay's recovery becomes more mental than physical and he is forced to see a psychologist before he can return to the team. When the psychologist threatens to declare Clay unfit for duty and recommend he be discharged from the military, will his brothers be able to help him before his career and life are destroyed?_

 _This is 'U' in the Alphabet Injuries collection and a continuation of **"Where's Spenser?"** and **"Taken and Tortured"** and picks up four days after Clay is rescued._

 _This installment is extra long (31,000+ words), so there are 10 chapter breaks to help you mark your place. Happy reading._

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Untouchable and Unconditional Care**

 _ **Bravo's Plane Bound for Virginia**_

Clay shifted on the uncomfortable gurney, trying and failing to find a position that didn't exacerbate his aching body. He was ready to go home after being forced to stay in the hospital for four days. Brock had been released on the second day, but the urinary infection Clay developed from ripping out his catheter the first day kept him there longer while he received intravenous antibiotics.

It must've been some cosmic payback for kicking Theresa in the stomach because she didn't deserve to be hurt. As nurses go, she was one of the best he ever encountered, and that was saying something since most of those who took care of him were top of the line.

He shifted his gaze to Brock, who lay on a gurney beside him. Their mobile beds had been lowered close to the floor for the flight, and Cerb now curled up next to Brock, both sleeping. Clay appreciated his bed faced the front of the plane rather than the rear because it afforded him a view of the rest of the team, who were all in their hammocks now.

Clay needed at least one of them in visual range at all times. He hated to admit but having been abducted in a public venue while on vacation left him unnerved. It didn't help that he continued to experience ungodly nightmares every time he slept. Nor the fact he was utterly helpless at the moment. Both arms remained immobile unless he was eating or needed to use the latrine. And going to the bathroom, if it wasn't peeing in a bottle, required assistance because he was not allowed to put any weight on his legs with the hairline fractures to his tibias.

Breathing slow and deliberate, Clay attempted to calm his anxiety as he closed his eyes. _I can do this. I'm in my safe place. I'm surrounded by my brothers. No one here wants to harm me. There are no tasers attached to me. Tabasi isn't on this plane._

Clay's heart rate increased at the mere thought of Tabasi. The man had gone to unparalleled lengths to take him so he could torture him for killing his sons, who were trying to kill him in the first place. A hand touching his shoulder startled him, and his eyes flew open to find Trent crouched beside him.

"Sorry. Should've announced myself verbally. How's your pain?"

"Bearable."

"I can give you some relief. You don't need to be in pain. This med isn't addictive."

"No." Clay was sick of being drugged. He wanted a clear head, even if it meant discomfort.

"Okay. Get some rest then."

Clay rolled his eyes. "What I was doing before you came over and sca …" he trailed off not wanting to admit the touch scared the crap out of him.

Trent rose and grinned as if nothing was amiss. He kicked himself for dredging up Clay's fear of touch. The only one who could get close to the kid was Sonny, and the Texan had been ultra-tightlipped as to the source of Clay's unnatural reactions to them. They all figured something happened in captivity which Clay didn't include in his after-action report and allowed the kid to work through the issue on his own … for now.

Try as he might, Clay couldn't unwind. His pulse kept up it's quick-step even as he did sniper breathing, inhaling, holding for a count of four, and exhaling. The next twelve hours would be spent in misery if he couldn't find a way to calm down and relax his muscles. Half-tempted to call Sonny back to him, Clay opened his mouth but closed it again. He didn't want to appear weak … weaker than he was at this point.

He sucked it up and shut his eyes, determined to go to sleep. Clay counted sheep to one hundred and forty-six before they morphed into chubby unicorns. The incongruent images of rhinos leaping as gracefully as gazelles over a hedge made him smile. He lost count of the unicorns and drifted off somewhere between fifty and sixty.

Jolting awake with a cry, Clay struggled against his bindings, locked in his nightmare.

Sonny fell out of his hammock in his haste to reach the kid when Clay howled. He had been having a pleasant dream of spending time with Lisa. Picking himself up, he raced to the back of the plane while the others gave him space since he was the only one Clay allowed close to him in this state.

"Simba, it's me, Sonny." He uttered more soft words that would cut through the unrelenting fog of terror and bring his brother back to the here and now. When the vulnerable blue orbs locked on him, Sonny rested a hand on the kid's bicep. "Okay."

Clay inhaled sharply through his nose and slowly blew it out through his mouth. "Sonny?"

"Yeah?"

"Thought I would be free of them here."

"Nightmares?"

"Yeah."

"Why?" Sonny sat on the floor and kept a physical link with Clay as his brother calmed.

"My safe place. When I was hanging there, I wanted to be here, swinging in my hammock. At one point, I thought I'd be going home in a flag-draped box."

Sonny nodded. He had a safe place too. They all did. His was his grandninny's kitchen. She loved him dearly and always had tons of hugs, smiles, positive words, and delicious treats waiting for him in her kitchen. An idea popped into Sonny's mind. "I'll be back in a moment. Don't go nowhere." His quip got the desired effect when Clay gave him the stink-eye which translated into, _'Where the hell can I go? I can't walk.'_

Going to their gear area, Sonny rummaged around until he found what he was searching for, and when he straightened and turned, he came face-to-face with Jason.

"What you doing?"

"Helping Simba sleep … maybe without nightmares." Sonny set to work as Jason observed him. When he finished, Sonny said, "Wanna give me a hand with him?"

"Don't think this is a good idea."

"I do." Sonny lowered his voice to a whisper, "Our plane in his hammock is his safe place."

Jason arched a brow. "Okay."

Returning to the rear of the aircraft, Sonny crouched again and started undoing the straps which protected Clay from falling off the gurney if they hit turbulence. "Time for a change of scenery, Kid."

"Where we going?" Sonny's actions stymied him because, from his position, he couldn't see where his brother went or what he did a little bit ago.

Once the belts were unfastened, Sonny helped Clay to sit, and Jason moved to the other side. Jason's and Sonny's hands crossed Spenser's back and slipped under his thighs as they created a chair-like hold and lifted in unison. Trent and Ray watched as Clay was carried forward.

Clay's eyes rounded when he spotted his hammock strung between Trent's and Sonny's. "Why is it so low?"

"Don't want you hurtin' yourself if you flip out. Gonna move the gurney pad below it just in case though," Sonny explained.

Ray and Trent grinned as they held the fabric while Jason and Sonny maneuvered Clay into his hammock.

Eric roused enough to observe the brotherly deed. A smile came to his face as he closed his eyes again. Bravo was the best-damned team he ever commanded, and it was times like these which would unequivocally stay in his memory. These men fought hard for their country and their brothers. They possessed true warrior hearts.

Clay settled into his cocoon with a bright, unforgettable grin plastered on his face. No words were necessary, and the guys moved back to their beds. In short order, the slight sway soothed Clay's frazzled nerves and rocked him to sleep.

Not hovering, but keeping a watchful eye out on Clay, Sonny sighed when the soft, regular rhythm indicated the kid now slumbered. He hoped the rest of the flight would be uneventful, but Sonny would respond without hesitation if his brother needed him again.

* * *

 _ **Trent's Home**_

Resigned to the fact he wouldn't be going to his apartment for quite some time, Clay didn't make a fuss when Trent informed him he would be staying at his home. Still riding the euphoria of both sleeping the remainder of the flight without experiencing a nightmare, and the drugs Trent insisted he take before exiting the plane, he surveyed Trent's spare room. He noted the medical textbooks strewn all over the desk in the corner and the twin bed in the other. Tiny but enough space for the guys to maneuver his wheelchair.

In all truth, Clay understood why he wasn't allowed to go home. He couldn't walk, and he didn't have the use of his arms except for limited movements. Being unquestionably dependent on his brothers was better than being confined to a hospital, which was the only other option given to him by Dr. Irving.

Sonny waited a moment as Clay scanned his new digs, allowing his brother to acclimate a moment. When he noted Clay's shoulders relax slightly, he pushed him the rest of the way inside. "Time for a nap."

"I'm not five," Clay groused.

Ray followed them into the room since Jason drove Brock and Cerb home, would brief Brock's girlfriend on his medication schedule and dos and don'ts, then planned to stop at Clay's apartment to grab clothing and toiletries for the kid. "No, but the meds Trent gave you are taking effect. You'll be snoozing again soon. You'll be more comfortable in bed. Your neck won't get a crick."

Sonny positioned the chair near the bed. To avoid ratcheting up Clay unexpected aversion to being touched, he put the ball in Clay's court. "Tell us when you're ready to be moved."

Quelling his unease, telling himself his brothers wouldn't hurt him, Clay sucked in a breath and gradually exhaled. "Ready."

Ray and Sonny worked together and lifted in unison, careful not to bump Clay's legs as they shifted him to the bed.

Trent entered at that point and dropped a triangular foam wedge at the foot of the mattress. "Prop his legs up on this. Dawn is bringing in a couple more pillows for you, and a heating pad for your shoulders."

"Don't need them." Clay lay back and promptly regretted his words as his shoulders throbbed. He didn't know Dawn well, she came out to the bar several times with Trent, but right now he hated being seen by or being around anyone other than Bravo.

Trent pivoted and strode from the room. He needed to have a little talk with Dawn. He had another twinge of insight and realized it might be better if Dawn didn't enter Clay's room and kept a low profile, at least for the first few days. She would be receptive to his request, unlike his ex-wife. His ex, never fit in with their culture, never understood their mindsets, and undoubtedly never would've agreed to host an injured teammate in their home.

He caught her in the hall and smiled. "Hey, Dawn."

Dawn halted. "Hey what?"

"I have a favor to ask." He went on to lay out his request and reasons.

"Absolutely. Whatever you guys need. Anything, in particular, you or Clay would like for dinner? Any dietary restrictions?"

"Protein shakes and smoothies are good for Clay because he can use a long straw and not raise and lower his arms too much. Same with burros and wraps. Anything that doesn't require utensils … no cutting. Makes him feel less unmanly if we don't need to cut-up his food for him."

"Gotcha. Oh, I couldn't find the heating pad." Dawn handed over the pillows and kissed Trent's cheek. "I'm glad your home. I'm going to spoil you rotten too. Three bullets …" she sighed. "I would hate to lose you. You're the best thing that has happened in my life."

Trent wrapped his arms around Dawn, pulling her close and lowering his lips to hers, savoring her sweetness. When he pulled back, he almost said, I love you, but something made him change it to, "I'm only alive because of the kid. We'd all be dead if not for him. Thanks for helping me with him."

Dawn's hand caressed Trent's face and carded through his hair. She loved him, hoped one day they might marry, but she would give their relationship time to grow, especially after the number his ex-wife had done on him. "Anytime. Now, go. I've got grocery shopping to do. Need to grab things to make smoothies and stock up on Sonny's favorite beer."

"Why Sonny's?"

Dawn smiled. "Wherever Clay is, Sonny is. I assume he's staying here until he, Ray, and Jason deploy in two weeks."

Utterly amazed, Trent could only smile as he nodded. Perhaps taking the plunge into marriage again might not be so bad … with Dawn. When she sauntered back down the hall, he turned and headed back to the guest room.

"I'll check in tomorrow," Ray said before taking his leave, wanting to go home to Naima and his kids. As much as he wanted to go after and destroy the IIB organization, he needed the time with his family too.

Trent handed the pillow to Sonny, who lifted Clay and made their youngest teammate more comfortable. He leaned on the wall, noting the kid's lids were at half-mast, he would be sawing logs shortly. A few times he started to tell Clay about the weird psychic link he had to him, but could never find the right words. Perhaps it was a one-off thing, and if so, he wouldn't have to admit his trip into the Twilight Zone.

When Sonny finished and turned to him, Trent said, "Dawn's gone shopping. I've got an air mattress in the hall closet if you want to set it up in here."

Clay's sleepy voice came out a little unsteady, "Sonny, you staying?"

"You betcha, Underdog."

"Don't like that one …" Clay trailed off as he quit fighting against a drug-induced slumber, secure in the knowledge Sonny would remain near.

Stepping out of the room, and shutting the door, Sonny peered at Trent. "You sure Dawn is oaky with us both here. I could take the kid to my place."

"I'm sure, and if she wasn't, that would be a signal to me, it would be over. Besides, this way he can settle in before you have to leave, and perhaps will loosen up around me, so he isn't so stressed when you're gone."

Sonny chewed his toothpick and sighed. "Thought about asking Blackburn if I can stay."

Trent's brows arched as his lips upturned. "Never thought I'd see the day the Mighty Quinn would choose not to go after targets."

"Well, this is truly unprecedented territory. Kid's never shied away from you guys. They screwed with his head big time. He needs me more than I need to go swack the assholes. Though, if I could do both, I would."

"I hear ya. Let's play this by ear. Perhaps Clay will open up to me."

Sonny grinned and teased, "Maybe if you quit being a chicken and told him about the link you shared with him, he might."

"Not being chicken."

"Uh-huh." Sonny ambled to the closet as he chuckled.

"Just don't want to give any ammunition to anyone to make me go see a shrink again. Manila was bad enough."

Sonny nodded. "Yeah, Shaw hoped to use that to split us up. He failed. So will any other shrink. Bravo's solid. The kid will be too. Given a little time to get his head on straight."

Trent only nodded and headed to the bathroom in search of the heating pad. Clay would want it when he woke up.

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Unfathomable, Undeterred, and Unadulterated Fear**

 _ **Trent's Home – Guest Room**_

Jason stood in the doorway staring at Clay as he slept and he couldn't help the smirk playing on his face. The kid would probably kill him for what he did, but damn, it had been a spur of the moment decision and one he believed might help. At least a little if he could keep the guys from teasing Clay.

Though that shouldn't be too hard, every single one of them sighed with relief when they rescued him … alive. However, the intervening days in the hospital showed them Clay had unseen injuries. Ones which would require patience and reassurance to help their brother reclaim his independence and self-confidence.

His grin faded as Jason considered what might've occurred, the underlying cause of Spenser's newly acquired skittishness and aversion to being touched. It turned his stomach to think Clay had been violated in such a manner, but it would account for his reactions. For now, they would focus on creating a safe space and surround Clay with men he trusted, which counted only seven if he included Cerb, who technically wasn't a person, but hey, the hair missile was male.

Footfalls behind him caused Jason to turn. "No teasing. None."

Sonny screwed up his face, not sure what Jason was going on about, but understanding dawned as he peeked into the room. His face split into a broad grin. "Wouldn't. You know, Davis bought that for him and brought it to the hospital when she visited him while we were in Manila. Surprised, he kept it."

"I'm not." Trent piped up, having witnessed Jason tucking the little plush seal into Clay's arms earlier.

"Why do ya think he didn't toss it?" Sonny inquired.

"Everyone needs something to hang on to in rough waters. We couldn't be here, Stella was out of the picture, his dad, well, and I'm sure the plush animal helped steady him during the lonely nights."

Sonny chuckled. "Okay, you sound a little too wise on the subject. Where are you hiding your stuffed animal? Underneath your pillow?"

Trent rolled his eyes. "Not everyone requires first-hand knowledge to learn something like you do, Sonny. There are things called books. You outta read one. Might open your eyes."

Their banter halted as Clay began to stir. Jason and Trent held back as Sonny entered the room. The kid waking either brought a few seconds of fear and disorientation, which Sonny helped him through, or calm acceptance and awareness, but they couldn't predict with any certainty which would happen. They all wished they could approach him, but were unable due to this newfound fear.

Clay heard someone approaching and blinked open to find the Texan. Relief washed through him because at first, he wondered if he was back there and would be enduring another round of torture. The sensation of something between his arm and chest made him glance down. His eyes shot to Sonny, who smiled and shook his head.

"Not my doing, Ultraman."

With both arms strapped, Clay couldn't move the seal. "Who did and who is Ultraman?"

"Don't you watch Japanese sci-fi?" Sonny sidestepped ratting out Jason.

"No."

"Thought all you millennial snowflakes did."

Jason stepped into the room; glad Clay woke coherent. "Hey. About dinnertime. You interested in moving to the other room to eat, or would you prefer to stay here?"

Clay realized in that moment who was responsible for bringing Sammy the Seal and stuffing him into his arms. When he first joined, he never would've expected that of his team lead. Jason possessed a reputation of being an unapologetic, unbridled hardass and the best-damned leader in DEVGRU, so Jason putting a plush animal in the arms of a teammate was unfathomable. But here it was, and the only person who went to his apartment was Jason.

He debated whether he wanted to move or not. He was sore laying on his back all the time, but going to the other room meant they would have to lift him again, and that meant pain too. Plus, he would have to endure them touching him. He truly didn't understand why a simple touch set off a wave of nausea and scared him so much.

They were his brothers, and they would never hurt him. He had been beaten to hell before and never experience something like this. It wasn't like Tabasi let Dinc follow through with raping him. He should be able to handle some asshole fondling him and threatening rape … he was a trained SEAL after all. The man just wanted to get inside his head … not his ass. Reacting to any touch was letting Tabasi win.

Clay swallowed hard and noticed Jason, Sonny, and Trent patiently waiting for an answer. He recognized his mind wandered … again. It had been doing a lot of that whenever he was awake. Refusing to allow the bastard to win, Clay pushed down on his unexplainable fear. "Other room."

"How about a shower first?" Trent suggested. The kid had not bathed since he woke. The nurses had cleaned him when he arrived at the hospital before he was conscious, but after that, Clay refused all attempts.

"No."

"You're getting a little ripe." Sonny tipped his hat back. "Jace brought a shower chair. I can help you onto it, and you can at least let the water roll over you."

Clay's eyes darted to Jason. He had meant to ditch that damned shower chair once he managed to stand on his own, but unfortunately, he never got around to doing so after returning to the team. "No. Don't want one."

"You need—" Trent started.

"NO!" Clay snapped out, cutting the medic off.

"Perhaps tomorrow. I believe Dawn is making you a smoothie. You ready for Sonny and me to transfer to your chair?" Jason decided to ask Trent if the kid's medical records might give them a clue if the kid had been raped.

Clay lowered his eyes, not happy with himself for barking at Trent. He mumbled, "Sorry for being—"

"Stop."

His lids lifted and gazed at Trent when he spoke.

"Nothing to apologize for. You said no, and I shouldn't have pushed. Would you like a raspberry or blueberry smoothie?" Trent decided to give Clay choices whenever possible. The kid had been taken against his will, undressed, left hanging, and subjected to unhuman torture. Unarguably the loss of control must play a role in his current mindset. Giving Clay control over things might help restore his equilibrium.

"Raspberry, please."

"You got it." Trent pivoted to go to the kitchen.

Shifting his gaze to Sonny, Clay blew out a breath. "Need to make a pitstop."

Sonny nodded as Jason moved the chair into position. The two moved in an unhurried fashion, taking care as they maneuvered Clay into the wheelchair. Jason stood in the room as Sonny pushed Spenser to the restroom down the hall. The Texan developed a system that required only him to transfer the kid to the toilet and back. He glanced at the bed and grinned again. Clay didn't ask for the stuffed seal to be removed from his sling and took it with him.

* * *

 _ **Mandy's Office**_

Resting her elbow on the desk and her cheek in her palm, Mandy stared at the laptop's monitor. She brought copies of all the video they collected in Zermatt back with her. She worked her contacts and called in favors from colleagues with resources in countries Clay passed through on the train. So far, she obtained security footage from the Zürich and Sofia stations, but Belgrade, where Clay ended up on the tracks, and Istanbul continued to be unattainable.

She also received satellite photos of Tabasi's compound. She had intended to scour them for images of the deceased, believing she might discover someone who would lead her to other members of IIB. Unfortunately, someone blew the place sky high and must've soaked all the bodies with flammable liquid beforehand since only burnt, unrecognizable corpses lay about.

Tabasi had been mute during her interrogation of him. He was unwilling to divulge why he and el-Samad remained there if they planned to set a trap. Nor did he react when she told him the younger el-Samad had been the one to give up the names of the other IIB members.

Though, in hindsight, Tabasi probably planned for them to capture el-Samad so they could entrap Bravo in Simir. That seemed the only logical reason to Mandy, though something about the whole situation and the way things played out still left her with an unsettled feeling. So she turned Tabasi over to others versed in techniques of encouraging people to talk.

Undeterred by Tabasi's uncooperative behavior, Mandy would continue to ferret out the IIB organization and develop an iron-clad, well-vetted target package. She refused to put Bravo under the gun with unacceptable intel again.

Mandy sighed and shut her eyes as she viewed Trip landing on Clay in the Sofia train station when he slipped the burner phone into his pocket. Without Trip's help, Clay might still be unaccounted for, which caused her gut to roil.

She had been barred from Spenser's room at the Bagram hospital, though Blackburn indicated Clay's wounds were not life-threatening. Mandy didn't understand why, and no one, not even Jason gave her a clue as to why. Blackburn made an unpopular announcement to her, the analysts, Alpha, and the support team the morning after the rescue, none of them were allowed to visit and were being sent home on a separate flight that afternoon, but Bravo would return when Clay was released.

The unknown and un-Navy-like decisions niggled at her. She was aware from Scott that Clay didn't suffer any disfiguring wounds, so Jason wasn't trying to shield his youngest teammate from gawking stares. She learned they arrived this afternoon, but thus far, Jason had not returned her call or text asking how they fared.

Lifting her lashes, Mandy pushed her unanswered questions about Clay to the backburner and refocused on the video. It was unlikely someone with the clout Tabasi possessed would travel with only one guard. They identified the burly man who pushed the wheelchair using a passport scan in Zurich, Dinc Uzun. Sonny confirmed he schwacked the guy outside of the room where they found Clay.

She needed to find the others. Mandy would be unwavering in her determination to destroy this organization and utilize every resource at her disposal. Then perhaps she might unburden herself of the guilt weighing on her for sending the guys into a trap. One in which Trent had been shot and Clay had been dragged, beaten, and identified by Tabasi which allowed him to target Clay and, in the process, not only injure Clay, Brock, Cerb, and Nick but kill twenty-eight innocent people in an avalanche.

* * *

 _ **Trent's Home – Family Room**_

Clay felt utterly idiotic, but he appreciated Trent's solution. The effort of using his arms to take care of business in the bathroom left them fatigued and aching. Even with the extra-long straw, lifting the glass enough to reach his mouth put an uncomfortable strain on his muscles and caused his hands to shake.

So Trent came up with a solution, something he received as a gag gift for his fortieth birthday, one with an Over-the-hill theme. He now wore a black, plastic baseball helmet with cupholders on either side, intended for beer cans. Tubes were built-in and could be inserted into said cans, or in his case cups of smoothie, and the flexible tubing snaked down and was positioned in easy reach of his mouth — a unique hands-free method of consuming his dinner.

His fingers unconsciously curled around the stuffed seal as he listened to the others shoot the shit like they normally did in the bar, glad for a bit of pseudo normalcy. When the subject turned to Brock, Clay asked, "When does Brock start physical therapy?"

"He's already doing some passive motions to prevent a frozen shoulder, but another couple of weeks before the real work starts," Trent answered. "Want more to drink?"

"No. Tell Dawn it was good."

"Sure. Want the hat off?" Trent stood and waited. Getting a nod, he stepped closer and removed the perfect solution.

He headed to the kitchen to do the dishes and grinned when he thought about Dawn's unrequested offer tonight. When she returned from the store with everything they would need for several days, she informed him she arranged to stay at her sister's home to give Clay space. She would stop by after work to make dinners, and visit briefly until Clay became comfortable in her presence. Dawn seemed to understand what it meant to be the spouse or significant other of a top-tier operator.

Sonny rose and said, "Simba, I'm gonna grab a shower. You okay with me out of the room?"

"Yeah," Clay answered when he wanted to say no.

Quiet descended on the room with only him and Jason. His grip on the seal increased as his heart sped up for no reason. His breathing began to hitch, and he began to shake. Unnerved by his reaction to nothing, his gaze sought out Jason.

The unadulterated fear and pleading in Clay's eyes had Jason out of his chair in under a second. "Breathe. Slow it down. Like this." He sat near but not touching Clay. He inhaled, held his breath, and exhaled, offering Clay a model to follow. "That's it. Slow and easy. In, hold, out."

"I don't …" Clay's voice tremored, "understand." His unregulated and ragged breaths continued as his entire body shook for no apparent reason.

"Can I hold you?"

Nodding, Clay prepared for the onslaught of unwanted nausea that accompanied any skin contact with another person.

Jason gently drew Clay to him, tucking his head in the crook of his shoulder and lightly wrapping his arms around Clay. The kid's body melded into his, unresisting when he pulled him closer. "Okay. You're gonna be alright." Jason pitched his voice as he had when Mikey experienced a nightmare. Unhurriedly, he began to rub circles on Clay's back, attempting to soothe the kid as he had his children.

Utterly unmanned and embarrassed, Clay let his team leader hold him as he rode the wave of an unforeseen tsunami of emotions. When the need to unleash the contents of his stomach became unstoppable, Clay wrenched away with a gagging sound. A bowl that contained unsalted and unbuttered popcorn appeared under his chin in the nick of time. He coated the popcorn in pink, regurgitated smoothie.

Trent rushed out of the kitchen when he overheard the retching, bringing with him a rag and a water bottle. "What happened?" He took a knee on the opposite side of Clay.

"Unsure. He was fine one moment then began shaking and having trouble breathing. Thought it might be a panic attack, so I held him. Then he started hurling." Jason held the bowl with one hand and braced Clay's back with the other as he lost everything he ate tonight.

Setting down the items he brought in with him, Trent stood. "Gonna grab my bag."

"Knock on the bathroom too. We need Sonny."

"Yeah." Trent raced off to his room to get his Spenser med-kit but stopped to pound on the hall bathroom. "Kid needs you."

Sonny slammed off the water, not bothering to rinse his hair. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his midsection after he yanked open the door. Dripping wet, he raced into the family room and went straight to Clay who was now spitting into a bowl. "Hey, kid. I'm here." He uncapped the water and held it for Clay. "Take a sip and spit."

Clay unconsciously leaned towards Sonny and away from Jason as he accepted a bit of water and swished. He missed the glance the two shared … unaware of the flicker of sadness in Jason's eyes and the sincere concern reflected in Sonny's.

Returning, unzipping the pack on his way, Trent pulled out a blood pressure cuff. "Clay. Clay, can you focus on me?"

Somewhat unfocused eyes lifted, seeking to comply as unrelenting tremors coursed through him. "Trent, what's wrong," his voice wobbled, "with me?"

"Not sure, buddy. Could be anything. I'm going to take your BP. Okay?" Trent needed to talk to Dr. Irving. He was still miffed he had been prevented from reviewing Clay's charts at Bagram. This might be a delayed response to the repeated shocks his body received or a reaction to the medication he had been prescribed.

As he trembled, Clay nodded. When Trent's hand brushed his thigh as he moved to put on the cuff, the need to hurl resurged, but with nothing left he ended up dry-heaving. Thoroughly spent after his abdomen quit clenching, he let Sonny guide him backward and to the side, so he rested in the corner of the couch as Trent took his vitals and Jason covered him with a blanket. He drifted, not able to pay attention to the words spoken by the three around him.

Clay wanted to curl up and hide. He didn't understand what was happening to him. _Why does touch make me sick to my stomach and ramp up unnatural fear? What the hell is wrong with me?_

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Navigating Uncharted Waters**

 _ **One Week Later – Trent's Home – Guest Room**_

Sharp pain in his back woke Clay in the dead of night. He began to draw his legs up but stopped as his calf muscles cramped. Clenching his jaw, he rode out the waves of pain, refusing to call out and wake Sonny for the umpteenth time.

As the cramping started to ease, Clay blew out a breath and stared at the ceiling illuminated by the nightlight plugged into the wall outlet. The last week staying at Trent's place had included one humiliating event after another. For some reason, if he woke to a pitch-black room, he would tremble uncontrollably. Hence the new addition which cast away the dark.

The first panic attack, which occurred a week ago, became frequent unwanted intrusions and happened without forewarning. More than once, he spilled smoothies in his lap as his hand violently shook. Trent spoke with Dr. Irving, and they found no physical cause for his shaking or nausea. The unpredictable nature of the episodes left everyone on edge.

He still refused to shower. He reeked and wondered when they would force him to submit to a thorough washing. Due to his body's propensity to vibrate enough to make him unsteady even while sitting, made taking a shower alone an unacceptable risk in Trent's and Jason's eyes. At some point, he needed to man-up, strip down, accept help, and get in the fucking shower, but he failed to find the mental strength to do so yet.

Clay spent a lot of time thinking about why he refused and came to the conclusion it wasn't only about being touched or being naked in front of his brothers, though that played a large part. Part of him laid the blame for what befell him due to his desire to shower at the remote base in the Sahara. If he had not been in the shower tent when the IIB blew up the ammo supply, the chain of events since wouldn't have occurred.

Though unrealistic, he wanted to travel back in time and change things. He would rather put up with sand in places where he chafed, then end up here, wholly and unmistakably fucked up and dependent on others for his base needs. Unbidden, tears leaked out and trailed off the sides of his face and onto the pillow beneath his head. They often did in the middle of the night. The lack of control left him shaken to the core.

Everything he thought of himself came into question. He once believed he couldn't be broken, could withstand any form of torture and pain. He survived ungodly pain in the past. He'd been shot, knifed, almost drowned, impaled on a hook, practically hung, dragged, beaten, drugged, bit by a venomous sea krait, blown up several times, electrocuted, nearly eaten by a leopard, and hell he even lost his memory once.

The scars littering his body provided physical evidence of what he could endure. So why did he break now? Why would one asshole who subjected him to pain, and not the worst pain he experienced, cause him to fall apart? If he didn't get his shit together, and soon, he would lose his place on Bravo.

Sonny lay still as he debated whether to rise and go to Clay. The quiet crying broke his heart. The kid tried to hide his tears, but traces were evident on his face each morning. He was out of his depth and didn't understand how to help his little brother. Sonny wondered if Clay went through something similar when he recovered while they were in Manila.

Undoubtedly if he asked, he would embarrass Clay, so Sonny and the rest of the guys chose to pretend it didn't happen. Their brother was dealing with enough humiliation already. The way Clay would lower his eyes and apologize each time he was helped onto the toilet made Sonny want to kill Tabasi.

The once quick to smile, cocky, and outspoken pipehitter had been replaced with a solemn, uncertain, and almost mute shadow of the former man. With the lack of food while he was held hostage, followed by a week of constant vomiting took a toll on Clay's body. Though Dawn did a magnificent job packing the kid's smoothies with nutrition, Spenser's inability to keep food down caused him to lose weight. If things didn't resolve soon, Trent said the doc might be forced to hospitalize Clay.

None of them wanted that for the kid. They were doing their best, with Blackburn's assistance, to shield him from a mandatory psych eval until he got a handle on his emotions. After Shaw forced them to visit with a headshrink in Manila, some cake-eater decided it would be a good idea to implement criterion under which operators would be required to visit one. Being taken hostage was one of the criteria. They would lose the kid for sure if he had to undergo evaluation now.

Though, Clay's words the first night in the hospital, _"Don't let them touch me again. I don't want to be raped."_ coupled with his fear of touch, refusal to shower, and Trent's unsuccessful attempt to obtain a copy of the kid's medical records after they rescued him, unsettled Sonny. At first, Sonny took the words to mean Clay had been threatened with the possibility to mess with his head. But the more he studied Clay's behavior the more he wondered if the kid left off one word from the end of his statement … _"I don't want to be raped **again**."_

In uncharted waters, unsure how to fix his brother, Sonny thought for the first time perhaps a psychologist might be able to help Clay. He recalled how his sister's friend had fallen to pieces after an attempted assault. If he hadn't come out of the bar earlier than usual, he would've found Uma more than roughed up with her dress hiked around her waist as the asshole tried to tear off her panties.

Uma resisted therapy at first, claiming she was fine. But her life began to spiral out of control, and at one point, she tried to commit suicide. After months of therapy, Uma began to heal, and she returned to the vibrant young woman everyone liked. So perhaps Clay would benefit too, especially if Tabasi went further than just threatening the kid.

His thoughts halted as Clay's soft voice said, "Sonny. Hey, Sonny."

"Yeah?" Sonny rolled over so he could peer at Clay.

"Sorry to wake you. I um, I gotta take a leak."

"No problem." Sonny rose and pushed the rolling armless desk chair closer to the bed. They found the chair work better for one-man transfers since they could position it right next to the bed and it was the same height. It was also easier to maneuver in Trent's bathroom, and he could adjust it, so it was level with the stool.

Sonny pulled Sammy out of Clay's sling and set it on the bed. The stuffed animal went everywhere with the kid, except the latrine. Unfortunately, that meant the plush seal had been puked on several times, but Dawn worked magic and got the blueberry stains out of it yesterday.

None of them said a word about the seal which Clay clutched whenever the panic attacks overtook him. They were just glad he had something to help ease his anxiety. In Sonny's mind, Sammy was no different than his magnetic shark-repellent bracelet, Ray's pocket bible, or Cerb sleeping with Clay's shirt. If it brought him a modicum of comfort and relief, then so be it.

* * *

 _ **Trent's Home - Bathroom**_

After transferring Clay to the seat, and unstrapping his arms so he could shimmy off his shorts and take care of business, Sonny turned his back and stared out into the hall to give the kid a bit of privacy while remaining visible.

Clay hung his head as he sat. This was only slightly less mortifying than when recovering after the bomb in Manila tore up his legs. He hated using bedpans and having someone else wipe his butt. Though it hurt, he possessed enough range of motion in his arms to do that for himself and to lift a glass or fork to feed himself. Raising them above mid-chest is when the real agony began.

The urge to pee he had in the room seemed to fade, but after all the effort to get here, he decided to wait a bit because with his luck it would probably return once he made it back to bed. When his stream finally began, it came with extreme pain in his lower back. He groaned as his hand moved to his flank, causing pain in his shoulder too. "Shit!"

Sonny almost made a quip that he didn't need commentary on Clay's actions on the toilet, but a second moan and a strangled whimper caused him to pivot. "Clay?"

Pain-filled eyes met Sonny's gaze. "Hurts. Knife stabbing in my back. Arrrgghhh!" Clay bent over and unexpectedly threw up.

"TRENT! TRENT! BATHROOM NOW!" Sonny bellowed as he grabbed a towel off the rack to toss over the mess on the floor and the little trashcan for Clay to hurl into.

Unable to keep silent, the pain more intense than anything he ever experienced, including being hooked, Clay let loose an unbridled string of foul words interspersed with cries after he quit upchucking.

"What happened?" Trent asked, beginning to feel like he said that way too often lately, particularly in relation to the kid.

"He was fine one minute, started to pee, then in pain and throwing up the next moment." Sonny made room for Trent.

"Describe your pain, Clay. Where does it hurt?" Trent knelt.

"Back … sort of … fucking burning knife twisting. Morphine … give me morphine," Clay begged.

Trent's eyes widened as they met Sonny's unprepared for that request. "Sorry, can't give you opioids or anything until I figure out what is causing the pain. It started to hurt when you peed?"

"Yes." Clay panted, bent in half, pushing his fist into his lower back as he began to shiver and sweat.

"What is it?" Sonny asked as he reached for his phone. "Should I call Jason?"

Clay's continued moaning told Trent the kid needed relief. Spenser never asked for painkillers … and knew the risks of receiving morphine. For him to be begging now meant it must be excruciating. His mind lit upon a possible cause. "Call Jace. We need to take Clay to the hospital."

"NO!" Clay managed to respond.

"Yes. Sorry, no choice this time. You need an ultrasound of your kidneys." Trent turned back to Sonny. "Tell Jace to call Dr. Irving. I think the kid has a kidney stone and we need a urologist that Irving trusts."

"Got it." Sonny dialed, and after a brief explanation, he hung up and refocused on Clay. "Gonna help dress you. Okay?"

Clay only moaned in agony, at this point, he didn't give a damn if anyone touched him. He was tremoring, sweating, upchucking, swirling, and believed he might die from the pain … wished Trent would shoot him full of morphine or whatever would stop the unending agony.

* * *

 _ **Hospital – ER – Room 10**_

Jason arrived at the emergency room before Trent's car pulled up, driven by Dawn with Trent, Sonny, and Clay in the back. The kid was an unsightly and stinking mess. His short, black, oily hair lay plastered to his head. His unshaven beard had bits of puke in it, and his shorts were covered in regurgitated dinner too, as well as his socks. Clay moaned and gagged, as Sonny held his sweat-drenched, tremoring, shirtless upper body in his arms while mumbled things Jason didn't catch when he opened the door.

Trent and Sonny weren't in much better shape. Their hair stuck up at odd angles, they wore shorts and t-shirts but no shoes. Trent's shirt was actually on inside out and backward, denoting their medic's sole focus was Clay. Their pale faces unveiled their concern.

Having arrived before them, Jason arranged for a gurney to be waiting at the curb. Sonny slid out, holding Clay's torso, and Trent followed, lifting Clay's legs. Once inside, all three refused to be removed from Clay's treatment bay but stood back when Dr. Irving arrived in the room and began ordering people to do stuff.

That had been two hours ago, though it felt like an eternity. Luckily, the first thing Irving did was prescribe a painkiller, an antiemetic, and a sedative. When Clay lapsed into unconsciousness, Sonny crumpled into a chair and lowered his head into his hands. He hadn't moved since. Trent went with Clay when they took him for an ultrasound, and they returned about five minutes ago.

Now they waited for Dr. Irving and the urologist, a Dr. Underwood, to come in and tell them what they found. His eyes stayed on the kid, who remained blissfully unaware and pain-free for now. The nurses had cleaned him up and dressed his lower half in a pair of PJ bottoms, and his top was covered by a gown.

It still jarred Jason every time he caught sight of the black hair. He wondered again if he should offer to shave the kid's head to remove a visible reminder of his abduction. Jason held off due to Clay's aversion to touch, but perhaps it might diminish if they could eliminate things that might trigger memories of Tabasi.

Jason straightened as the doctors entered. "How is he?"

David Underwood, took the lead as he said, "The ultrasound showed Mr. Spenser is experiencing pain associated with a kidney stone which lodged in and is blocking his ureter."

"So, I was right, but he peed fine. I've been monitoring his output since he had the urinary infection. Why didn't he have symptoms until tonight?" Trent asked.

Irving patted Trent's shoulder, noting the inside out and backward shirt. Sawyer cared for his teammates a great deal, unwavering in his devotion to them. "You didn't miss anything. We believe the stone dislodged and got stuck this evening."

"Okay." Trent sagged against the wall.

"After consulting with Dr. Underwood, I believe it is in Clay's best interest if we perform a ureteroscopy. Though it is not too large to pass naturally, it would cause him significant discomfort, and we want to avoid that given all he is enduring at present."

Sonny lifted his head, hating that the kid endured more shit. "What does ure… whatever you called it, entail?"

Dr. Underwood explained in plain language, "No cutting is necessary, and Mr. Spenser will sleep through the procedure. I will use a thin, flexible scope passed through his bladder and ureter to find and remove the stone. We only need to wait for him to rouse to give his consent for the surgery. It is typically an outpatient procedure, so he will be able to go home once I'm finished."

Raking a hand through his hair, Jason never wanted to witness Clay in the previous state again. "I'm his medical proxy. Do the procedure."

Sonny's eyes whipped to Jason. "When did that happen?"

"In Rota. He asked. I agreed." Jason didn't share more. He had been surprised when Clay asked him and said he trusted his judgment. But the more he thought on it, the request made sense. The kid had no family except Bravo. He suggested Clay also ask Blackburn, that way if he was not able to … well, if the unthinkable happened and he was dead, the kid needed a backup proxy.

"This isn't urgent; we can wait for him to agree." Underwood eyed the three men who made an unbelievable stink about staying with Spenser. He did wonder why his colleague bent the rules and allowed them to remain.

"A nurse will be into prep him in a few minutes. Dr. Underwood, please come with me." Irving ushered him out before Bravo ripped the urologist a new one for even suggesting they wait and allow Clay to wake in potential pain just to garner agreement. Underwood didn't understand these men, and if Jason said Clay gave him proxy, then he did … end of discussion. Though he would need to ensure that little piece got documented in case, he was not around to smooth things over.

* * *

 _ **Trent's Home – Guest Room**_

Afternoon sunlight filtered through the partially open blinds, and shadows of the leaves on the oak tree outside, danced in the light summer breeze making patterns on the wall. When Clay opened his eyes, he stared at said wall, entranced by the display. For once, he didn't feel any pain, he sort of floated in a soft, fuzzy, unreal world.

Ray poked his head in, checking for the umpteenth time if Clay had woken up while Trent, Jason, and Sonny crashed in other rooms. After the phone call he received at seven o'clock, asking him to come over and informing him of what occurred in the wee hours of the morning, his plans for a picnic with his kids today changed.

Thankfully, Naima was unperturbed, and in fact, she urged him to go. She said the others were taking most the burden and he needed to be there to help Clay. Jace looked like shit when he answered the door, and Trent and Sonny appeared zombie-like with dark circles under their eyes. It became clear none of them had gotten much sleep in the last week, while he slept soundly every night with Naima in his arms.

It was indeed his turn to step up and share the responsibility of taking care of Clay. Fortunately, the ureteroscopy went off without a hitch, uneventful, and they removed the only stone. Irving dosed up the kid with a sedative to ensure he got a full eight hours of undisturbed sleep after Dr. Underwood finished.

He noted Clay's eyes open and stepped in. Keeping his tone calm and soft, Ray said, "You're awake. You hungry?"

Rotating his head, Clay peered at Ray. "When did you get here?" Then he realized Sonny wasn't in the room, and his heart sped up.

"Seven hours ago." At the panic creeping into the kid's expression, Ray moved close to the mattress and took a knee to be eye-level. "Breathe. Sonny is sleeping on the couch. I can get him if you need him. He made me promise to wake him if you did."

Exhaling heavily, Clay blinked a few times as he wrestled his fear into submission, Sonny was close if he needed him. "What time is it?"

"A little after three."

Still a bit floaty, Clay said, "Can I ask you something?"

Ray took a seat on the floor. "Sure."

"Did I puke in the bathroom last night or did I dream it?"

"You don't recall?"

"Not really. Something vague and hazy. Thought it might be a nightmare. Ungodly pain. Worse than being hooked or electrocuted."

Ray blanched. "Yeah, Naima said kidney stones are the worst pain a man can ever feel because we can't go through labor."

"Stones?"

"Don't worry. You slept through them, taking it out. Won't be causing you any more pain."

"I don't even remember going to the hospital."

"Sonny said you were really out of it. Begged for morphine."

Clay's brows shot up.

"Yeah. Must've been excruciating for you to ask for that. And no, no one gave you any. We know you worry about addiction." Sensing he should change the subject, Ray offered, "So, you want something to eat? I can make you a sandwich, scrambled eggs, or a chocolate protein shake."

"I can wait until dinner."

"Don't want you becoming underweight. Been almost a day since you last ate. I'm happy to make you anything you want."

"Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"If I ask you something, will you give me the unvarnished truth?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Will you be honest?"

"You have to ask?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then I promise to answer if I can … honestly."

Clay swallowed the lump in his throat. "Why does God hate me?"

Of all the questions Ray could've even contemplated Clay asking, this was not one of them. "You think he hates you?"

"My life sucks. Every time … everything, everyone, I value is taken away … somehow, some way. I'm going to be kicked off Bravo and perhaps out of the Navy all together."

"Why do you think you are leaving Bravo?"

"Come on … just look at me. I can't keep my shit together. I'm broken."

Though he was uncertain if he should, Ray reached out and lay a hand over Clay's heart. "You might be a little bent, but you are not broken. We will fight for you until you are well enough to fight for yourself no matter how long it takes. We will never abandon you. You are family. God loves you. We love you, brother."

Unwanted tears filled Clay's eyes. He turned to the wall, trying to blink them away, ashamed he couldn't control his emotions.

Ray rose and grabbed a tissue before sitting on the edge of the bed. He wiped at Clay's eyes. "You wanted the truth from me. Well, here it is brother, you're going to get through this. We have your back, and there is no shame in leaning on us. We don't see you as any less of a man or operator.

"Hell, you've endured more than the rest of us combined. You are strong, capable, and in your words, you're gonna get your shit together. Give yourself the same consideration you would give any of your brothers. Don't judge yourself so harshly … there is nothing wrong with tears or emotions. You only need a little time to sort through the stuff going on in your head."

Ray drew in a deep breath and smiled as he exhaled when Clay met his eyes. "Now, how about something to eat? If you're tired of smoothies, I can make you my ultimate bacon cheeseburger. Comes in second only to Sonny's famous barbeque."

"Burger sounds good." Clay breathed out, endeavoring to take Ray's words to heart, though he was still lost and navigating uncharted waters.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Unexpected Yet Heartwarming**

 _ **Two Days Later – Bravo Team Room**_

"No! Absolutely not." Jason crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Blackburn, unwilling to accept what he heard.

"Not a request. This comes down from above." Rubbing the back of his neck, a tension headache which started a week ago had not been alleviated by any meds. Nothing short of the orders evaporating would relieve Eric's misery.

"No!"

"Yes," Eric repeated, as unhappy with the situation as Jason.

Shaking his head, Jason began to pace. "He's not ready for Sonny to leave him. You said two weeks. You gave us the option to stay and train Green Team. Sonny was thinking of taking that option. Would allow him to be here for the kid."

Eric's brows shot up. "Sonny willingly staying here and training."

"Yeah. I know. Hell must've experienced a blizzard, but he would do anything for Clay. They're tight. Sonny's always been a bit of a loner and wildcard … Clay changed him."

"Jason, my hands are tied. I took this up the chain, through Harrington, and even to Droit. Someone above the admiral is pulling the strings. Someone with political clout. They want you, Ray, and Sonny to deploy with Alpha to deal with the situation in Uruguay."

"Full Metal's team is more than capable of doing this on their own."

"I'm well aware. That was one of my main arguments. Got shot down. You're wheels up in six hours. It will be your careers if all three of you aren't on the plane."

Jason's mind searched for a solution, a way to ensure Clay's security blanket, one in the shape of a burly Texan, remained close to him. "What if Quinn is ill?"

"Would require sign-off from Dr. Irving. He goes to great lengths to bend the rules for your team, but I'm unwilling to ask Irving to break them and risk his career or his integrity."

"We'll lose Sonny if he is forced to go. He'll do something incredibly stupid." Jason racked his brain for another way to resolve this unholy quandary. They might lose Spenser if Sonny went, and if he didn't go, Sonny might be dishonorably discharged. A no-win situation.

Eric drew in a breath, hating the next piece of information he had to share, realizing this just might throw Jason off the deep-end. "We have another issue to deal with too."

"What?" Jason gave Blackburn his attention, even though he had only a couple of hours to find a way for Sonny to remain here. He refused to lose either Bravo Three or Six. There was always a way.

"They've scheduled a psychologist's visit for Clay tomorrow."

"Change it."

"I can't."

"He's not ready."

"I'm aware. Again, I took it up the chain and pushed it back twice already. They wanted him the day we landed, and three days ago. Suspicions we are hiding something are being thrown around. We are, but, hell, Jace, the kid probably needs a shrink given his reactions. She might help."

Jason's day tumbled into a vat of acid. He burned inside and out. "Is someone deliberately targeting my team? Is Shaw trying to break us up again?"

"Don't know. Could just be how the cards are falling at the moment." Eric held out his hand with a slip of paper. "This is where and when Clay needs to be tomorrow."

Peering at the paper like it was a viper ready to strike, Jason noted the name and address. "Not a Navy psychologist. What the hell?"

"No. Again, we have no choice in this matter. Civilian, but she has been vetted and read in on the details of his abduction and rescue. Dr. Upchurch often works with the CIA and FBI. She specializes in helping former hostages."

"I don't like this. Not at all." Jason snagged the card and shoved it into his pocket.

"Neither do I." Eric's shoulders sagged a little. His gut told him he was failing his men, though he tried every trick in his bag to change the course of events unfolding.

Though irritated, Jason noticed the change in Blackburn and a bit of guilt crept in uninvited. "Thanks for trying…"

"Sorry, it wasn't enough."

The apology pierced Jason. "Nothing to be sorry about. We are in the Navy. And as much as I hate orders sometimes, we have a duty to follow them. As you've reminded me on occasion."

A little of the weight bearing down on him lifted and Eric nodded. "Trent and Brock will still be here, so Clay won't be totally alone like when we were in Manila. He's a strong kid, he's gonna be fine."

Jason snorted. "Yeah, he's fine already. Fucked-up. Insecure. Nervous. Emotional."

Eric gave a slight nod as Jason pivoted and strode out. This situation was so damned FUBAR that he didn't know if Bravo would exist in its current rendition come tomorrow. Hell, make that six hours from now if Sonny went UA. Eric busied his mind with how to fix things if Sonny chose the unauthorize absence route.

* * *

 _ **Trent's Home – Family Room**_

It had been too long since Cerb saw his boy, nine unbearable days. When Brock said 'car ride' today, Cerb became excited knowing for a fact where they were headed when Brock's mate, a pretty lady, as far as humans went, asked if they should stop and pick up Clay's favorite treat. Brock kissed her, and they stopped at the market to load up on all kinds of yummy smelling stuff. The steak he was tempted to snag, but he was a good boy, so he left it alone.

Upon arriving at Trent's home, Cerberus bolted inside, not wasting any time as he hopped up on the couch to claim his rightful place next to Clay. Unfortunately, he found a usurper in his place. Cerb emitted a soft, low growl to make everyone aware he was unhappy and tried to bite the unknown intruder.

"Cerb, leave it," Brock ordered as he lowered himself into a chair, glad to be out of his house and finally able to come in person to check on Clay. Though he had daily phone contact with most of the team, and Jason or Ray alternated stopping by his place, he wanted to see the kid himself.

What he laid eyes on worried him. Jason's description of the panic attacks and downward spiral now held new meaning. The sunken, hollow eyes denoted little sleep, though the kid couldn't do anything except laze about. Spenser was an unkempt mess, and his aversion to touch appeared to remain unabated. He got a whiff of him from across the room and realized showering must still be an issue. Brock wondered if they could actually help him through this crisis.

Thankfully, Clay allowed Sonny to help him, and from the last report, he appeared to be warming up to Trent. An expected outcome since Trent began passive range of motion exercises on Clay's arms and legs and tended to the almost healed abrasions and burns on his wrists and ankles daily.

Brock eyed Cerb, making sure he behaved, surprised by his growl and attempt to decapitate an inanimate object. Once satisfied, he turned his attention to Ray who offered him a beer and to Sonny who was entertaining everyone with tale about losing a bet in high school and having to play the ukulele in a unitard while attempting to ride a unicycle, which might or might not be unabashedly entirely made up to garner a laugh. It didn't matter if it was untrue because it created a slight upturn on Clay's face. A shadow of the smile the kid would normally display at Sonny's unbelievable stories.

Though he didn't want to leave it alone, Cerb obeyed Brock and rested his head in Clay's lap as Sonny yammered on. He glared at the beady-eyed, fluffy usurper sitting on his boy's other side, upset the ugly entity encroached on his territory. The thing stank worse than his boy, and that was saying something, 'cause boy, oh boy, did Clay reek.

One reason Cerb didn't act on his urge to tear the disgusting, gray creature apart is he sensed his packmate was in trouble. Beyond the foul body odor, which he'd sniffed before in the field when they worked long missions, something didn't smell right. His boy had been hurt before, many times, but he never emitted a scent like this … something terrible and dark … nasty and scary … desolate and shattered.

Cerb didn't understand and glanced at Brock for answers. From the expression on Brock's face, neither did he. His brown orbs returned to Clay and studied him, trying to uncover the reason. He tilted his head to the side and sniffed again, hoping another whiff might give him a clue as to what was wrong and how to help. His ears twitched when he caught a slight hitch in his boy's breathing. "Bark, ruff, ruff, yip." _Something's wrong. Help him._

As Clay's body began to shake violently, his breathing became uneven. _Crap, not again._ Clay prepared to ride out the panic attack, still unsure what brought them on. He had been enjoying Sonny's tale. Shuddering, his fingers clamped on Sammy, seeking a tether to keep from drowning in the waves of emotions that left him wasted afterward.

Cerb moved, Brock yelled at him to get off, but he didn't care. He placed his paws on Clay's shoulders, put his full body over his boy's chest and nuzzled as close as he could, licking Clay's cheek.

Clay's tremors slowed and dissipated in moments rather than minutes as Cerb lay atop him. His breathing returned to normal, and he drew in a sharp breath as he uncurled his fingers from the seal, wrapping both hands around Cerb, abandoning Sammy for the warmth and security the hair missile provided.

Brock backed away. His hand had almost reached Cerb's collar, ready to yank him off. Brock's gaze met Trent's, Sonny's, and Ray's, noting they all were as shocked as him. He resumed his seat and exhaled heavily.

"Well, I'll be damned. Cerb's a therapy dog," Sonny drawled.

"Think he just earned a steak dinner," Trent quipped, a smile forming.

Ray grinned as he took in the unusual yet heartwarming sight. "Unconditional love only a dog can give."

Calming, his pulse slowing to a regular rate, Clay whispered, "Good boy. Thanks, buddy." He leaned his head into the soft fur and let out a ragged sigh as he petted Cerb.

Sonny stood, a broad grin on his face as he started for the sliding patio door, believing Clay would be content with Cerb by his side if he left the room. Trent's new digs, meant they still had two places to have get-togethers after Jason sold his house. Ray and Naima wouldn't have to shoulder the burden of all team parties in their backyard. "Jason should be here soon, so I'll start the grill."

* * *

 _ **Trent's Home – Backyard**_

Clay sat on the lounge chair, with Cerb at his feet, and a plate of cut-up steak and cowboy beans on his lap. With Trent's help the last few days, his range of motion increased, and he could now lift his arms shoulder height without pain and he could, with loads of effort transfer himself from bed to chair to the toilet and back … so he achieved a bit of independence. Next week he would be starting physical therapy at the base with Brock and Trent.

He didn't relish the idea of leaving Trent's house, not until he gained control over the damned panic attacks. It would be mortifying if one occurred in front of other teams … and it would likely mean an immediate discharge for PTSD. Clay understood Trent was trying to arrange a private room for them, but that was unlikely … a long shot at best.

Clay peered at Cerb, and his first real grin appeared as he thought about how quickly he quit shaking when Cerb essentially hugged him. He tossed a piece of steak to the pup. "Wanna come to PT with me?" Clay didn't expect an answer, but the thought had merit. He would talk to Trent and Brock a little later … perhaps the hair missile could accompany them.

When the patio door slid open, Clay turned to find Jason. They started eating when he had not shown up earlier. Ray called Jason to find out the reason for his delay and only told them Jason had to take care of a few things. His team leader headed directly for him, and Clay could tell by the way he rubbed his thigh, something was bothering him.

Jason spotted Clay first. He hated to ruin the afternoon. This was the first time the kid appeared somewhat relaxed, and he was about to unhinge everyone. He halted and motioned to the others to join him. When they gathered around, he cut to the chase, "Ray, Sonny, and I have been spun up. We're wheels up in four hours."

"NO! Jace, we had two weeks. Blackburn said we could choose to stay and train Green Team." Sonny didn't say what everyone knew; _Clay needs me here._

"He tried. Cake-eaters above him tied his hands." Jason eyed Sonny.

"I'm not going. I'm sick … got food poisoning or something."

Clay gaped at Sonny. The response, not something he would ever hear out of Quinn's mouth.

Trent nodded. "Sounds about right. Undercooked chicken—"

"STOP! Blackburn ran this up the chain of command and was shot down. Any fabricated excuse will be scrutinized and result in discipline."

Sonny opened his mouth to tell them he would risk whatever punishment the cake-eaters dished out, but paused and turned to Clay when the kid spoke.

"You got to go. Don't ruin your career 'cause I can't keep my shit together. I can't be the reason …" Clay trailed off as he met Sonny's eyes. It scared the hell out of him to be without Sonny, but he was still man enough to want to protect his brother's livelihood. He would be unable to live with himself otherwise.

"There's more, and we have work to do before we leave." Jason focused on Clay.

"What kind of work?" Brock asked, confused.

Jason crouched to be eye level with Clay, and his expression softened. "Kid, you're gonna need to find your way faster than expected. Blackburn pushed your psych appointment back twice but is unable to do so again due to pressure from above. You're meeting with Dr. Upchurch, a civilian shrink, tomorrow morning at ten."

Cerb swiftly moved up Clay, totally ignoring the steak and beans, planting himself on his boy's lap when the strange odor emanated from him again. He nuzzled his head into the crook of Clay's neck.

The panic started to come over Clay, but upon wrapping a hand around Cerb, it dissipated before he did more than tremor slightly. "I'm screwed. I'll be kicked off Bravo."

"Hey, none of that. You can fake it until you make it, brother," Ray said, hoping that would be true.

"I can't control the shakes … yet."

Sonny peered at Cerb noting the calming effect he had on Clay. "Take Cerb with you. We can think of some excuse for him to be there."

Brock's brows rose, but he nodded. "He needs a bath."

"Yeah, the shrink won't be fooled if Clay shows up smelling like last week's dinner." Ray wondered how they would get him to shower.

"No, well, yeah that too, but I meant Cerb. He's covered in spicy bean sauce and steak juices." Brock noted the messy fur.

Jason maintained a steady gaze on Clay. "Ray's right. You need to take a shower. Trent says you have enough ROM to handle everything yourself except washing your hair. I have a solution if you will allow."

The ability to transfer by himself to the shower chair and wash himself, helped reduce Clay's aversion to bathing, so he asked, "What?"

"How about Sonny or me shave your head?"

"Naima would be willing to give you a buzz cut. She cuts my hair for me, and she won't leave you completely bald." Ray offered with a chuckle. A bald Clay would be worse than a black-haired Clay with his current haggard appearance. He would look like some concentration camp survivor … not an image the psychologist needed to have in her head when assessing Clay.

Clay realized he must quit wallowing if he was going to get his life back. Around him stood five brothers willing to go to the ends of the earth for him. They shielded him as long as they could. Taking Cerb with him had promise, especially since his shaking halted when the pup was close to him. Sucking in an unsteady breath, Clay took the first step forward. "If Naima is willing, I'd appreciate getting rid of the reminder of, well, what occurred."

"Great. I'll call her now." Ray stepped away to speak privately with his wife.

Jason rose, pleasantly surprised things turned out differently than he anticipated, and proud of the team's united front and how Clay approached the issue. It gave him hope the kid might be turning the corner and on the mend. He glanced at Brock, noting his arm still in a sling. "Sonny and I will take care of bathing Cerb before we leave."

"Brock, I still have some of Cerb's shampoo under the kitchen sink, and you can use the gray towels in the linen closet." Trent turned his gaze to Clay. "I'm going to refill your plate. You need your strength, and tonight I'm giving you a mild sedative, so you are well-rested tomorrow."

Clay nodded as the guys moved off to gather supplies. He continued to pet Cerb as an unquestionable calm rolled through him, giving him hope he might be alright, and actually make it back to Bravo. Not wanting the steak to go to waste, and believing the hair missile deserved a treat, Clay fed the pieces to his unique, living, breathing, and fuzzy security blanket.

* * *

 _ **Trent's Home – Guest Room**_

Thoroughly spent, but freshly washed and dressed in a comfortable t-shirt and shorts, Clay rested on the edge of the bed, his legs dangling and free of the removable splints until Trent came to put them back on. He stared at the fading yellowish-greenish bruising which ran the length of his shins, glad for only hairline fractures and not full-on broken bones. Recovery time would be measured in weeks, not months.

He struggled to keep his eyes open, wanting to say bye to Jason, Ray, and Sonny before they headed out on the mission to some unknown location for an unknown reason … he wasn't going so he didn't receive the details. At the light knock on the door, Clay called out, "Enter."

Jason came in and shut the bedroom door behind him. He took a seat on the rolling chair and studied Clay a moment. Naima went above and beyond, coming up with a solution none of them had thought about. She brought hair dye in a shade comparable to Clay's natural color, and the kid let her work her magic. His hair was shorn to a manageable length for him given his current restricted movement, shorter than normal but not a buzz cut. Naima's solution would help Clay present a better image to the psychologist.

"Hair looks good."

Clay nodded. "Yeah. Glad to get rid of the black. Where's Sonny and Ray?"

"They'll be along in a minute. Wanted a private word with you."

"Okay."

Jason sat back and blew out a breath. "I'm sorry you aren't being given the time you need. I wish I knew more than what I shared with you earlier about this Dr. Upchurch. The reason I was delayed is I asked Mandy to look into her. Unfortunately, she couldn't tell me any more than what Blackburn conveyed."

"It's alright, Jace. This isn't on you. I'll work the problem."

Leaning forward, placing his elbows on his thighs, and clasping his hands, Jason connected with Clay's eyes. Vulnerability shone in the blue orbs, but so did a filament of determination. "You're gonna be leading your own team one day. There is no doubt in my mind. You've been knocked for a loop before. Never known a stronger person than you.

"No matter what this psychologist might put in her report, I'm not letting you leave Bravo. Like you said in Manila … six brothers, one heartbeat. You've faced taller mountains and reached the summit. You got this, Kid."

Jason stood and tousled the kid's shorter locks, which still held a hint of a curl. "You're family. We fight for family. We will fight for you. We never leave a man behind. Never."

Clay didn't flinch at Jason's fatherly gesture but didn't know how to respond with words, so only nodded.

Another rap on his door brought Ray's head peeking in before he switched places with Jason for a private chat. "Trent, Brock and I talked. We figured out something which should work for Cerb to end up with you in Dr. Upchurch's office. Also, Brock is planning on staying here."

"He doesn't have to."

"You're right, but it's his choice, and he wants to be here for you." Ray grinned. "Plus, undoubtedly Cerb will refuse to go home. He's adopted you. You're his packmate, and he is protective."

"He's Brock's dog."

"True, but are you aware Cerb snagged one of your shirts and Brock let him keep it in his kennel?"

"Huh? No. When?" Clay had noted t-shirts in Cerb's bedding but assumed they belonged to Brock.

"After Tibet."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Ray placed a hand on Clay's shoulder, glad the flinch was only slight. "Keep faith, Brother. This too shall pass, and you will be operating with us again."

Again, Clay could only nod as Sonny barged in. Soon only the two of them were in the room, and Sonny spun the chair to straddle it, resting his forearms on the back. "Well, little buddy."

Dipping his head and dropping his eyes, Clay murmured, "Thanks for everything. Not sure I'd be where I am now without you."

"Hey. You'd do the same thing for me … in a heartbeat." Sonny reached to his back pocket and pulled out the hat he stuffed there before coming in. He set it in Clay's lap. "Need you to hold on to this for me."

Clay stared at Sonny's lucky hat, the one he hung on the sub tube when his brother was stuck, and they thought they'd lose him. Raising his eyes, blue met blue. "Why?"

"Thought you could take it with you tomorrow. Always been lucky for me. Plus it will cover up Naima's dye job."

"Hey, it looks better than black."

Sonny smiled and quipped, "Good thing you're a blond, 'cause someone might think I'm racist if I called you Blackie."

Clay chuckled.

Sonny's grin broadened, relieved to hear the laugh which had been missing for too long. "You did good, Kid. You did your part and held on until we found you. Trust me. Everything else will work itself out."

"I'm not so sure."

"I am. Doubly. So, I'll be certain for both of us until you're ready to be sure for yourself."

A twinge of fear began to build as Clay asked, "Where are you going? Wait, never mind. Sucks not going with you."

Sonny nodded. "Ditto … only reverse. You let Trent and Brock help you if you need anything. They're your brothers and care about you as much as me. You're safe with them."

Clay inhaled deeply and exhaled gradually. "Yeah, I know."

Sonny leaned in close and whispered, "You need to ask Trent about the Twilight Zone?"

"Huh? Why do I need to ask him about an old TV program?"

"Just do it when you two are alone. I guarantee you'll find it interesting. Gotta go now." He rose from his seat and bent over to give the kid a quick one-armed hug.

Clay almost teared up and said, don't go, but taking necessary steps to regain his manhood, he said, "Give 'em hell."

Not wanting to leave Clay in such a vulnerable state, but knowing he must go when and where duty called, Sonny replied, "Always do." When Sonny opened the door, a squeaky-clean and groomed furball squeezed in, hopped up on the bed beside Clay, and laid his head in his boy's lap. Sonny took one last glance back, noting Clay's hand moving to pet Cerb. He's gonna be alright. I won't let my kid brother fall or leave him behind.

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Dr. Upchurch**

 _ **Dr. Upchurch's Office**_

Clay's hand rested on Cerb's head which settled on his thigh after they entered the waiting room. He didn't believe the ruse would work, but he decided to go along with it because it was his only chance at faking it through the assessment without shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. His fingers curled in Cerb's fur, seeking respite from his unrelenting sense of doom.

After several deep sniper breaths to regulate his uneven heart rate, Clay glanced at Trent who offered to fill out the intake form for him. Although it shouldn't surprise him, it did when he noted Trent provided everything from his birthdate, to his address, and included his current medications and history of injuries. Dr. Upchurch would be flipping to the backside to read the full details because they didn't fit in the three lines provided on the front.

Trent gave Clay a sideways glance. "That should about do it. How are you feeling?"

Clay only arched his brows.

"Yeah, right. That's a shrink's question. What I meant is, what's your pain level? Transferring yourself to and from the car took some effort."

"I'm good."

A door opened, and a woman in a black pencil skirt and white blouse with her hair pulled back and up in a tight bun, peered into the reception area with a lemon-puss expression. "Mr. Spenser?"

Trent rose and set the clipboard in Clay's lap before gripping the handles of the wheelchair. Cerb, whose leash was clipped to Trent's belt loop, trotted beside them.

"Dogs aren't allowed," she spat in an unkind tone.

Quelling his desire to snap back in the same unfriendly manner, Trent instead flashed her a smile, hiding the fact he found her attitude repellent. "No worries, Cerberus isn't staying, I'm only taking Clay in and then we're leaving. I'll be back to pick Clay up after his appointment."

Her face curling in disgust, she sniped, "So long as the mangy mutt leaves with you. Follow me." Her high-heels click-clacked as she led them down a narrow corridor with doors on either side until they reached the last one. She opened the door and pointed inside. "Wait here. Dr. Upchurch will be with you soon."

Trent pushed Clay inside and the door shut behind him with a bang which caused Clay to jerk and Trent to scowl. Trent wiped the expression from his face as he positioned Clay facing a chair with an unobstructed view of the exit. He whispered, "Ready?"

"Not really, but got no choice. Hope the shrink isn't as unpleasant as her help." His hand sought out Cerb who positioned himself as before with his head resting on his leg.

Cerb gazed up at his boy. Brock told him to protect, so he would do exactly that. No one would harm his boy without going through vicious canines first. He wouldn't hesitate to sink his fangs into anyone's arms or legs to safeguard the youngest pack member. Biting Cruella Deville would be first on his list for calling him a mangy mutt. He was clean and well-brushed, thanks to Jason and Sonny.

"Me too. Remember, Brock is monitoring your GPS tracker, and if you need me, press the panic button, and I'll be in here in seconds flat." Trent unclipped Cerb's bungee cord leash in preparation for his exit.

Clay's free hand went from fingering the small device in his pocket to his stomach. He couldn't believe when he sat down for breakfast this morning that next to his bowl of cereal was a tiny ingestible GPS tracker which would stay in his system for up to seventy-two hours before being eliminated. As he swallowed it, Clay wondered if electronic tracking devices would become a standard part of his diet if he managed to beat the odds and return to Bravo. All in all, he figured they would be preferable to an implanted one and would give him and the guys peace of mind during missions.

The door opening halted his thoughts, and Clay turned to get his first view of Dr. Upchurch. What he envisioned didn't match reality. For some reason, with the name Upchurch, he thought she would be uptight and stiff, like the woman who escorted them back. The opposite was true. She breezed in with a smile, wearing an understated casual outfit of khaki slacks with a pale blue blouse, and flats.

Clay's eyes drank in a woman not much older than himself, who possessed light brown hair which softly framed her face in riotous curls which stopped at her collar. Her peaches and cream complexion highlighted her bright green eyes and unexpectedly drew him in. He wished she weren't his psychologist because quite frankly, if he met her in a bar, he would ask her out.

"Good morning, Mr. Spenser, I'm Dr. Veronica Upchurch." Her eyes moved to the team dog, noting Spenser's hold, and she grasped the reason for his presence, the animal provided him a sense of safety. "What a handsome dog. A Malinois if I'm not mistaken. He is welcome to stay if you want." She turned to Spenser's teammate. "Sorry, but I must ask you to leave. You may wait in the other room."

Trent and Clay shared a glance, and Trent grinned. He didn't need to fake needing to throw up and rushing out of the room, leaving Cerb with Clay. He picked up the clipboard, closed the distance between him and Upchurch to hand it to her as he said, "I'll be waiting." Trent paused at the door, making sure Clay was okay with him exiting, and when he received a slight nod, he pivoted and shut the door on his way out.

Veronica gracefully glided towards the desk and set the folder she carried in and the unnecessary intake form down then changed directions and lowered herself in the chair facing her patient instead of sitting behind the unfamiliar desk. The nature of her work required her to travel, so she didn't maintain her own office and rented space as needed in whatever city she found herself in.

Taking a moment to assess her patient's physical condition, Veronica was struck by his haggard countenance and the flash of trepidation in his blue eyes. The dark circles underneath his eyes bespoke of difficulty sleeping, and the hollows of his cheeks indicated he was not eating enough to reestablish a healthy weight. She noted his hair had been restored to its natural color, which she chalked up on the plus side and revealed the caring nature of someone in his life.

Veronica enjoyed her job and hoped to help this young SEAL come to terms with a terrible event in his life and return to his team. The delicate matter came to her directly from Admiral Droit with specific instructions … as usual. Under the guise of being a civilian psychologist, her true role in black ops allowed her to be selective with what she entered in his psych jacket. Droit made it clear she make no mention of the sexual assault in her notes, and the physical evidence of such, found by the medical staff who initially treated the sailor after he was rescued, had been scrubbed from his official medical jacket.

She understood maintaining Spenser's privacy had been somewhat difficult, and the doctors had used the urinary infection to keep him at Bagram hospital to buy time to arrange things here at home and to draw blood to run HIV and STI tests. They also attempted to determine whether Spenser was cognizant of the assault, without asking him directly. It was highly likely he might not be fully aware of what occurred to him due to the cocktail of drugs found in his system upon his arrival.

However, his aversion to being touched told Veronica that on some level, Spenser might be aware but suppressing the ungodly memory. He may have disassociated enough while being tortured, as he was trained to do, that if he had an inkling of the assault, his unconscious mind took over and hid it from him to protect him from the unthinkable.

The Navy invested millions in training top-tier SEALs, and as such, they didn't want to lose one if his recovery, both mind and body, could be accomplished. She perceived from her brief discussion about Spenser with Admiral Droit, this young man had earned the admiral's esteem, and he would do anything short of murder to ensure Spenser recovered. The dossier she received on Bravo also indicated the six men and dog were tighter than any team she ever encountered, and Clay would be well-served by their closeness.

Veronica offered a slight smile as she positioned her body to communicate openness. "Before we begin, I want you to know your sessions will be completely confidential. Anything you say here stays between you and me."

Clay blinked, focusing on the plural use of session and missing the last sentence entirely. "Sessions? More than one?"

"Yes. You went through a traumatic event, and in my experience, it takes time to build trust and work through your emotions. To put this in perspective, how many physical therapy sessions did you go through when you rehabbed your legs after the bomb in Manila?"

"Don't know … more than a hundred probably." Clay cringed at the thought of multiple psych sessions.

Veronica nodded. "The mind is the most complex organ in our body, so doesn't it make sense that one hour of talking isn't going to resolve the trauma of being abducted and subjected to torture?"

"I guess."

"Clay, may I call you Clay?"

"Yeah."

"Clay, my primary goal is to assist you through this and help you move forward." Her gaze turned to her desk, and the folder for a moment before returning to Clay. "I have been fully briefed on the mission in Simir which prompted to your abduction, the kidnapping in Zermatt, the rescue mission, and the medical reports from Dr. Irving."

"How did a civilian get clearance at that level?" Clay's fingers clamped on Cerb as his unease increased.

Cerb put one paw on his boy as the dark scent began to grow, ready to jump up if needed to chase it away.

"I expected your question and received clearance to share something with you. What I'm about to tell you, must remain between us."

"Okay." Clay exhaled an unsteady breath.

"I work in a covert capacity for the Navy and have top-secret clearance. They paid for my schooling, and when I graduated, I was recruited to work on cases which require the utmost discretion. My reports go directly to Admiral Droit, and no one else is privy to the contents."

"So why the ruse … as a civilian?"

"Part of my cover."

"Have you actually worked with the CIA, FBI, and others held hostage?"

Veronica paused before answering, trying to determine the best way to establish rapport with this man. Clay needed a firm basis from which to build trust, so she shared much more than she normally would, bordering on too much information. "I've been loaned out from time to time to authenticate my cover, and yes, I specialize in hostage-based trauma. My doctoral thesis was on the impact of SEAL SERE training on sailors, and my results were used to make changes."

Clay let her disclosure roll around in his head as he petted Cerb, his body beginning to tremor.

"Do you have any more questions for me?" Veronica observed the shakes but didn't call attention to them when the dog rose up and licked Clay's cheek before nuzzling his neck. Though she wanted to smile at his intuitive dog, she kept her expression neutral. She decided part of her therapy would be to include meditation techniques so Clay could learn self-calming skills because the team dog wouldn't be with him at all times.

Meeting the psychologist's gaze as Cerb comforted him, Clay didn't read any judgment in her eyes, though it was apparent he needed Cerb to calm himself. His trembling receded, and when he could trust his voice not to wobble, he said, "No."

"Alright. Let's get started. As I said, I've read the AARs, but I would like to hear in your own words what happened."

"Where do you want me to start?"

"Wherever you feel comfortable."

Comfortable was not a term Clay would equate with spilling his guts with a psychologist, but decided to approach this as he would an AAR. Detach emotionally and stick to the facts. He nudged Cerb down but kept a hand on him.

"Intel which led us to Simir was bogus, and we ended up in a trap. I did what was necessary to cover my team until they were clear, and I had to exfil. When I reached my secondary exfil location, tangos were firing on my ride, so I responded, clearing my path."

Images of the coward driving away and leaving him caused Clay's gut to churn, and he glossed over the betrayal by jumping to the next part. "The insurgents grabbed me, tied me to a truck, and dragged me before hoisting me up and beating me. My brothers came back for me." Clay's eyes dropped to his lap, as he murmured, "Hate that they have to keep saving me."

Realizing he spoke his internal thought out loud, Clay sucked in a breath. _Damn, so much for not revealing anything._ He lifted his gaze and continued. "Apparently, I killed Tabasi's three sons and pissed him off. He went to unparalleled lengths to find me and orchestrate my abduction.

"I recall getting on the cable car, Sonny told me to get off, tried to, but the doors closed. I took a seat, was jostled, felt a pinprick on the other side. Guess that is when he first drugged me. I woke somewhere, blindfolded and gagged. Didn't know his name or why I had been taken at the time, but he told me vengeance was his before injecting more drugs." His hand moved to his pocket, contemplating pressing the panic button, unsure if he could continue.

As the silence stretched, Veronica noted the heightened agitation. "Would you like a drink?"

Before he could stop himself, Clay said, "I'll take a whiskey."

Veronica smiled. "Sorry. Best I can do is cold water."

"Yeah. Thanks." Clay latched on the offered reprieve from speaking.

As she rose and strode to the tiny fridge near the window, Veronica caught sight of Bravo's dog handler and almost laughed when he turned away trying not to appear as if he were keeping watch on his teammate … or perhaps it was Cerberus. She returned to Clay and held out the sealed bottle to him, understanding he might balk at taking an opened bottle from a stranger. "Can you manage opening it yourself?"

"Yeah." Clay inspected the water bottle, making sure the seal was unbroken as a fear niggled in his mind about being drugged. He twisted the cap once satisfied it was untampered with. Clay took his time sipping as the fingers of his other hand continued to card through Cerb's fur.

When he couldn't avoid talking longer, Clay found a way to gloss over being undressed and groped on the train. "I tried to escape on the train. The SOB had more than one guard. They tasered me after the asshole called me his son."

Nausea reared its ugly head, flipping his stomach, and uncontrolled tremors started in earnest. He lost his grip on the bottle. It toppled to the floor, helped along by Cerb who jumped into his lap. Both arms encircled Cerb and Clay hung on for dear life as icy waves of sheer panic and fear tried to drown him.

Cerb's paw must've hit the button in his pocket because the door slammed open and Trent rushed inside. Mortified by coming unhinged in front of the shrink, Clay wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. He further embarrassed himself as he began to gag, Cerb's calming effect flying out the window as his entire body shook and he upchucked his breakfast.

Clay lost track of time and awareness of himself and things around him. When he finally came back from the fog of panic, he found himself laid out on the couch with a cool, damp rag on his forehead, Cerb on top of him, Trent and Brock kneeling beside him, and Dr. Upchurch sat on the edge of the desk across the room.

His eyes sought Trent's, and his voice came out wrecked and wretched, "I'm so screwed. She's gonna report I'm unfit for duty."

Brock grinned and whispered, "Perhaps not … told her you must've eaten something bad."

Veronica waited a few more moments to give Clay time to recompose himself and allow his teammates to help him sit up before she said, "I believe we have covered enough for today. I will be scheduling additional sessions with you."

Demoralized and unhappy at his inability to keep his shit together, Clay shook his head. "Don't bother."

"Hey—" Trent started to tell him not to give up but stopped as the shrink spoke.

Veronica hated to do this, but she needed to do a reality check with Clay, so stated, "Well, I've been told SEALs don't give up, but if that is the way you want to go, I can submit my report today declaring you unfit for duty and recommending you be discharged from the military."

Cerb growled as Brock bolted upward and pivoted, focusing his unbridled fury at Upchurch as he barked, "Clay's not unfit. Where the hell did you get your fucking degree? He's been through more shit than anyone I know, and he always comes out on top. He only needs a bit of time, but the shit-for-brains cake-eaters got a poker up their assess and forced him into this evaluation before he is even physically ready to return."

Standing, Trent turned to Upchurch, his expression murderous. "You're a civilian. You're not qualified to determine if Clay is fit or unfit. You don't have a fucking clue what it takes to do our jobs. To run towards danger while others cower and run to safety. I won't let you ruin Clay's life. He is an operator's operator, and you will surely kill him by sending in a report like that as you would if you held a loaded gun to his head and pulled the trigger. Not going to let you do either."

For several moments, Clay could only gap at the unwavering loyalty of his brothers. His voice small, yet loud enough to be heard in the unnerving silence that descended on the room, Clay said, "Schedule my next appointment."

Brock and Trent whipped around to stare at Clay like he had grown two additional heads, unaware of what he knew about Upchurch's credentials and her pull with Admiral Droit. Clay had no choice but to agree if he stood any chance of returning to Bravo.

"How about tomorrow at ten?" Veronica gave Clay a soft smile.

Clay nodded as his brothers now gapped at him. "I'm tired. Can we go home?"

Unsure what the hell the kid was doing, Trent grabbed the wheelchair and moved it close to Clay. "Need help transferring?"

Wholly unmanned, and wanting to leave as fast as possible, he nodded and allowed Trent to lift him into the chair.

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Babysitting in Uruguay and Seeking Understanding**

 _ **Uruguay – United States Embassy – Reception Area**_

Sonny seethed as he stared at the damned senator from Utah they escorted around today. Furious he had been forced to leave Clay for some namby-pamby low-vis babysitting mission Alpha team could do in their sleep. So wound up, he wanted to hit something, Sonny shoved his clenched fists in his pockets instead. His wasn't an idiot, something was at work, and he wondered if Shaw might be involved after his legs had been cut out from underneath him by Bravo's actions when they schwacked all those most wanted terrorists.

A pissed off general with a vendetta against Bravo could cause them unwanted problems … like making them leave Clay when he needed them and forcing the psych eval before the kid had even healed physically. Drawn out of his angry thoughts by Ray's hand on his shoulder, Sonny blew out a breath. "Wonder how the kid did today."

Ray leaned against the wall as he waited with Sonny for Jason and Blackburn to return from finding out the itinerary for tomorrow while Alpha grabbed dinner before taking the night shift. "Trent said to call him whenever we get a chance."

Sonny pulled out his phone, ready to dial Trent, but stopped and eyed Ray when Bravo Two put a hand over his.

"Hold on. This is a call we need to make in private." Ray didn't want to have to explain a raging Texan to the politicos here who already made it clear they were an unwelcome addition to the embassy via undisguised glares and comments. He didn't often question their missions, but Ray didn't understand why a top-tier team was sent here when no unrest was brewing in a stable country. Nor did he see why it took all of Alpha, minus Nick who was still recovering, three of Bravo, and Blackburn to provide security for Senator Usher.

Reluctantly, Sonny shoved the phone back into his back pocket. "This mission is for the birds."

"You're preaching to the choir, brother." Ray tilted his head down the hall. "Jason's coming."

"He looks upset," Sonny remarked as he removed his toothpick he had nearly destroyed while waiting.

Jason halted next to his men and released a low growl. "Let's go to our quarters in the basement."

"What's got you all steamed … besides the obvious?" Ray inquired.

"Not here." Jason pivoted and strode to the stairs in the back of the embassy, which led to the accommodations assigned to them. A room barely big enough to hang nine hammocks, but then again, not all of them would be sleeping at the same time since this was a round-the-clock detail. The ambassador apologized for the underwhelming lodgings, but with the senator and his entourage visiting, it was the only one available.

As the three SEALs entered the stairwell, they didn't notice the man who followed them with his eyes. Wayne smirked and picked up a folder before rising from his chair. He forced himself to turn to the woman next to him, and in a tone, which communicated his utter disdain for this undesirable creature, he said, "Make sure you vet each of the attendees for Saturday's event, or you'll be fired like the last social secretary." He ambled out to find Usher.

Glaring at the back of her uppity co-worker, Brenda was half-tempted to stick her tongue out at Wayne I'm-better-than-you-all Wickingham, but it would be unprofessional and unbecoming. The senator's top aide acted like he was in charge instead of Usher and one day she hoped Wayne was put in his place. Until then, she needed a job, so she set about reviewing the attendees for the party being hosted by the embassy in Senator Usher's honor.

* * *

 _ **Uruguay – United States Embassy – Basement Room**_

"What gives?" Ray asked once they entered the room and closed the door.

"We are now going to be here for at least a week. Ambassador Yancy invited Usher to remain for an economic summit next Thursday."

"What if Mandy is ready with an IIB target package while we're here playing babysitter?" Sonny's fists clenched. He wanted to destroy the organization who was at the root of what happened to Clay.

"Don't know. Haven't had a chance to talk to Blackburn. He's unhappy with this assignment too." Jason raked both hands through his hair. "One other thing. We are all to be clean-shaven for the event on Saturday, so we, and I quote, 'blend in and don't look like heathens.'"

Sonny chuckled. "All my friends are heathens. I prefer their company to these pretentious pencil pushers who yammer on about nothing and line their pockets with all the pork in the bills they pass."

Ray smiled. "Tell us how you really feel."

"Thought you were apolitical?" Jason said as he sat in his hammock.

"That's for my Commander-In-Chief. The rest of these buffoons … well, I'd like to—" His phone ringing interrupted him, and Sonny reached for it wondering if it was Clay calling and needing to talk to him. The ID read Trent, and he answered, putting it on speaker. "What's wrong with the kid?"

Trent unleashed his pent-up anger as he related what the psychologist said to Clay. Brock seconded Trent's indignation as he explained the severity of the panic attack and how Clay isolated himself in his room and refused to eat or talk to them. Trent took over again and in very colorful language questioned how the Navy could farm out Clay's eval to a civilian quack and why Clay would agree to meet with her tomorrow.

Once the two men state-side finished unloading and venting to the three in Uruguay, Jason stepped up as their leader and said, "I'll talk to Blackburn about this, but as for Clay, I believe he agreed because the kid wants nothing more than to be a SEAL. She gave him an ultimatum and left him no choice in the matter."

Ray sighed and spoke his thoughts, which might make him unpopular but needed to be expressed. "Currently, Clay is unfit for duty. He needs help. He's been through Hell since he joined us. Maybe this last abduction is the straw that broke the camel's back. I want him back as much as the rest of you, but he's unbalanced and can't operate like he is now. He'd be a liability to the team and himself.

"God forbid Spenser went on a mission and had an episode of the shakes which ended in his death or one of ours. If any of us died because of that, the kid would be irrevocably broken. Right now, he is only bent, and Clay needs to hammer out whatever is causing his attacks."

Sonny didn't want to listen to reason … he wanted to be there for the kid … but Two was the glue, and he did make sense. Tamping down on his frustration at not being there for Clay, Sonny said, "Trent, Brock, do what you can for him and if this unqualified shrink screws up the kid more, my fist will be having a nice long conversation with the cake-eater responsible for this shit."

The guys engaged in several minutes of back and forth discussion, none happy with Clay's situation, but determined to do what they could to help. Before hanging up, Jason shared they wouldn't be home for at least a week, and to contact him tomorrow night to let him know how the next session went.

None of them possessed an appetite after the call, and with no place they could go except the grounds of the embassy, Sonny changed into sweats and decided to take a run around the perimeter to release his frustration. With one glance, Jason communicated to Ray to go with Sonny to keep him out of trouble, and Jason exited the room to find Blackburn.

* * *

 _ **Dr. Upchurch's Office**_

Though Trent still didn't understand the Navy's reasoning for assigning this quack, and in his mind, any psychologist who said what Upchurch said yesterday fell into that category, he pushed Clay into the office. Upon returning to his house yesterday, the kid slept through lunch, declined dinner, and refused to speak to anyone as he stayed in his room the entire afternoon and night.

Clay remained uncommunicative this morning too, though he did shower and eat breakfast. Trent wanted to say many things, demand a different psychologist, rant about the cake-eaters forcing Clay to be evaluated so soon, but he did none of that. Well, he did, but Brock, Jason, Ray, and Sonny were the recipients of his unvarnished thoughts last night.

After he set the brake and unlatched Cerb's leash from his belt, Trent set the water bottle in the kid's lap. "I'll be in the waiting room if you need me."

Clay only nodded as he studied Dr. Upchurch. He didn't hear Trent leave, too wrapped up in his head. He sequestered himself yesterday because he needed time to think. Clay couldn't explain to the guys why he agreed to more sessions, partly because he didn't know why himself and also, he couldn't tell them she wasn't a civilian and the reports would go directly to Admiral Droit.

Veronica noted the icy glare from Trent before he left, and Clay's direct gaze on her. She regretted the way she handled things in their first session. Her professor would call it a rookie mistake by focusing on the issue and not the person, an error she shouldn't be making at this point in her career.

She vowed not to blunder again, or the Navy would lose a highly qualified SEAL. At first, the panic attack made her question if Clay would make it back, made her wonder if she should place him in a psych ward and medicate him. But then she spent the night reviewing his jacket, previous psych evals, and his history of injuries. She even went so far as to examine Lieutenant Commander Blackburn's reports on team dynamics which were courtesy of General Shaw's misguided belief Bravo Team needed to be broken up.

Sawyer had called Spenser an operator's operator and that shone through in everything she read, but the sexual assault might not be the sole reason for his panic attacks. All in all, the young man had a rather unbelievable history since joining Bravo. Though after her careful review she possessed the confidence that if given the proper support, the right environment, and the time necessary to heal and cope with the cumulative trauma, Clay would overcome this obstacle.

Determined to help him, Veronica opened the session by candidly acknowledging his panic attack without judgment. "You had a reaction at the end of our session."

Clay shrugged. "Yeah." When Upchurch remained quiet for what felt like an eternity, but in reality, was maybe ten seconds, he blurted out, "I've been thinking." He paused, waited for her response which didn't come, sighed, and said, "You said yesterday anything I say is confidential and your primary goal is to help me move forward. Does that mean this isn't my normal psych assessment?"

"Yes."

Clay took a deep breath, one hand clenching into a fist and the other buried in Cerb's fur as he internalized her answer. Gradually exhaling and unclenching his fist, Clay dropped his gaze to the floor. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I've never experienced a total lack of control. Never shook or threw up for no reason. I don't know why it is happening now. I've been through much worse."

He lifted his eyes and met Upchurch's gaze. "Got the scars to prove it." Clay noted the psychologist's slight smile and nod, but again she remained quiet, so he forged onward, "I've been taken hostage before."

His mind brought forth recollections of the times he had been abducted. "In Mexico, a drug cartel put a hit out on me. Was drunk when it happened. Sonny took me out drinking 'cause my girlfriend dumped me. If I hadn't been shitfaced, they wouldn't have taken us. Sonny blamed himself, but it wasn't his fault. It was mine for not staying aware during a mission.

"They impaled me with a whaling hook," his hand moved to just under his ribs, "here. Hurt like hell, though I guess the excessive alcohol dulled the pain a little. They hoisted me up and used me as a pinata before lowering me and putting a rope around my neck. The bastards heaved me off the roof, and if not for Ray's sniper skills, I'd be dead."

Noting what seemed to be compassion in Upchurch's expression and her undivided attention, Clay continued, "I didn't experience any of this shit after that …" he trailed off as something came to mind. "But, well, maybe that's because at first, I didn't remember anything. My head hit hard when I fell two stories, and I ended up with short-term amnesia, so perhaps it was different than this time."

After unscrewing the water bottle, Clay took a sip, somewhat surprised the shrink wasn't asking him probing questions about his feelings and emotions. Something about her demeanor put him at ease … much like when he was in Sonny's presence … though different.

"Then, there was Ecuador. I shouldn't have been there. My ears were still healing after a mission gone wrong in Dongola. Bravo rescued me that time too … both Dongola and in Ecuador. I would go again in a heartbeat and endure what Carlson did to me 'cause I was able to save my brothers."

He took another sip of water and quipped, "My language skills come in handy on occasion." He received another smile and nod, indicating she heard but wouldn't interrupt his flow. At this point, Clay's whip-smart brain grasped this would be mostly a monolog, and he decided to avail himself of an attentive ear with the proper clearance level to spill things he kept buried inside.

"Seems I've pissed off more than one person. Doza in Mexico. Also, a CIA agent named Carlson hated me because of an ill-planned op where Jason put my well-being ahead of snagging the HVT. Though Jason had an option that time, a Canadian team showed up, and well, we got the HVT anyway. I guess me being ill saved them that time too, 'cause we would've run smack dab into a larger force unexpectedly.

"The mission in Argentina went sideways in a hurry … first time I was drugged and abducted. Got an arrow in my ass on that one. Humiliating to be found naked, drugged out of my mind, and injured. Guess that one is a little more like this time.

"Tibet was a little different. The people who found me at first wanted to help … but came across others who wanted to sell me into sexual slavery. Was drugged out of my gourd then too. A well-meaning woman without medical knowledge kept me high on opium.

"Which I'm in two minds about. On the one hand, don't think I could've handled the fire-cupping torture of the quack subjected me to without it. But on the other hand, being addicted put my career in jeopardy and makes me nervous about taking any painkillers.

"Becoming addicted again was one of my fears after the bomb in Manila tore my legs apart. I refused meds as often as I could … rather endure pain than lose my job."

Clay sighed and shifted his gaze to the window. "I've been through worse shit than what Tabasi did to me. In SERE, I mouthed off to the instructors, kept being cocky, and they waterboarded me more than normal, I'm sure. So, I knew how to handle being waterboarded.

"And after being beaten with a hockey stick while hanging from a whaling hook, having a red-hot poker shoved in my back, being speared with a harpoon and left in the middle of the Indian Ocean, and being dragged by a truck, Dinc's fists and Tabasi's taunts seemed like child's play. I only had to survive until my brothers came for me … they always do."

A mental image of him hanging by his wrists caused Clay's hand to tremble. Returning his gaze to Upchurch, he asked, "Why? Why is it so different this time? This wasn't the worst I've experienced, so why now? I don't understand."

"You would really like to understand," Veronica reflected Clay's words to him, letting him know she listened and comprehended, but also knowing Clay was the only person who could truly answer his question.

"Yeah. How do I get there?"

"That's an honest question."

Clay stared as the silence elongated, and he came to a realization. "You don't have a magic answer."

* * *

 **Chapter 7: One Stormy Night**

 _ **Three Weeks Later – Trent's Home – Guest Room**_

Waking from a nightmare, Clay lay stock still as he breathed through the terror which overcame him. A flash of lightning illuminated the room indicated the forecasted thunderstorm must be rolling through. He focused on the sound of the rain hitting the windowpane, hoping to stop a full-blown panic attack.

Though his body was well on the way to mending, his arms no longer in slings and allowed to walk using a boot cast, Clay still suffered from bouts of sheer terror with no apparent source. They came out of the blue and made him a wreck.

Cerb became his constant companion when the pup was not training with Brock, which was both a positive and negative. Yes, Cerb helped reduce the shakes, but the longer the disturbing episodes persisted, the more Clay worried he would be declared unfit and lose his place on Bravo.

He still woke in a cold sweat multiple times per night, and Clay figured he owed Trent mega dollars for his water bill because he always ended up in the shower afterward. Now that he could move on his own, he was driven to take showers multiple times per day. He couldn't stand being even the tiniest bit dirty. Clay scrubbed and scrubbed each time he took one … but never felt clean … which bugged the hell out of him.

Clay appreciated that Trent didn't say anything to him about the excessive showering, and allowed him to remain in his spare room instead of moving back to his place. Though he still hated to be touched, Clay didn't want to be alone. And with Sonny still on whatever mission they went on, living at Trent's place kept Clay from freaking out more.

The mission as far as he knew was only supposed to be a short one, but had extended for weeks and in the last two, none of them had heard a thing from Jason, Ray, or Sonny, which left Clay's imagination on overdrive, and might be a source for the ongoing panic episodes.

Though not the smartest move to shower during a storm, Clay was soaked through, feeling dirty, and driven by an urge to get clean. He rose from the damp sheets and hobbled to the hall bathroom without his cast.

* * *

 _ **Trent's Home – Bathroom**_

As he undressed for the third shower today, Clay caught his reflection in the mirror. On the outside, he appeared hale and hearty again, except for the light shadows under his eyes from interrupted sleep, but inside he was a friggin mess. His sessions with Dr. Upchurch created more questions in his mind than answers, and he began to lose hope of ever figuring out what brought on the tremors.

Clay turned on the tap, hoping the sound of the water wouldn't wake Trent or Brock. A slight scratch at the base of the bathroom door told him Cerb woke and came to check on him. He opened it a little and squatted as Cerb's nose poked inside. "Hey, I'm okay. Go back to Brock."

Cerb sniffed and nudged his head inside more.

"Out. Just going to shower." Clay frowned when Cerb ignored him and forced his shoulders through the opening.

Knowing the scent of the darkness now, Cerb refused to be sent packing. Though faint it was there, lurking and waiting to pounce. The nasty odor took his boy by surprise too many times and Cerb wished it was something solid he could bite and drag away from Clay. But it was not so he would do the next best thing … stay close so when it descended, his packmate had him to cling to.

Clay relented in trying to make Cerb leave. The pup could be as stubborn as Jason and Sonny combined. As the steam billowed over the shower curtain, Clay stood and said, "Suit yourself, but don't be mad at me when Dawn says you stink like wet dog." He left the door ajar so Cerb could leave when he wanted.

He stepped into the shower and began what became his routine in the last few weeks, pouring shampoo into his hand he started with washing his hair. Clay rinsed after several minutes of rubbing his scalp with his fingertips. The motion was a little soothing to him. Reaching out for the bodywash, his hand began to shake and he knocked it into the tub. "No. No. Not now." He clenched his shaking hand trying to make it stop.

As Clay bent to retrieve the bottle, Cerb's snout appeared, nudging the curtain aside. The dog's sudden appearance startled Clay and he slipped on the soap which seeped out of the open bottle. Down he went, striking his head on the bathtub's edge. It stung, and he cussed as he pressed a hand to his forehead and he peered at Cerb. "Thanks a lot."

Cerb bowed his head at the sarcastic words, and let out a mournful whimper as if saying 'sorry.'

Simultaneously a thunderous boom rent the air and the lights went out, pitching the room in blackness. Another boom sounded and Cerb barked. By the third thunderclap, Clay was scrambling out of the tub, realizing it was stupid to be in the water and imagining what Sonny and Jason would say if he got himself electrocuted.

As he reached to shut off the tap, the house shuddered with the force of a tremendous crack. His hand hit the handle knocking it to cold as he slipped again and landed in a heap.

The shock of ice-cold water hitting his face made Clay gasp, and suck in a bit of the water. And then he was there again … his mind taking him to the house in Turkmenistan. Tied down and being waterboarded as Tabasi told him he would pay for killing his sons.

Clay's entire body began to tremble as new images surfaced. Things he knew to be true but suppressed. Bile rose in his throat and he gagged as one of the guards … not Dinc … followed through on Tabasi's threats. He screamed, and screamed, and screamed as his body was violated … as he was brutally raped.

Cerb hopped in the tub, not caring about getting soaked, and nuzzled close … his boy needed him.

* * *

 _ **Trent's Home – Hallway**_

Trent, Brock, and Sonny converged at the same time in the hall outside the bathroom. Clay's shrieking drawing all out of a sound sleep.

Sonny's eyes were huge with concern in the illumination of Trent's flashlight. "This normal?"

"No," Trent pushed open the door.

* * *

 _ **Trent's Home – Bathroom**_

The three men crowded inside to find both Clay and Cerb in the tub with the water running, and their youngest teammate screaming his head off. Closest to the faucet Trent shut it off as Brock called to Cerb, who ignored him, refusing to leave Clay's side.

Sonny swallowed the lump in his throat as he moved forward. "Let me."

Trent and Brock nodded. The bond between Sonny and Clay was deep and strong, and Sonny might be able to break through whatever Clay was experiencing. Both were thankful the team returned tonight and Sonny came straight over after they landed. Clay had already been asleep, so Sonny decided to sleep on the couch and not disturb him.

"Hey, Goldilocks, I'm here. You're safe." Sonny had to speak louder than he wanted, close to a shout, to be heard over Clay's screaming. He stepped into the tub, crouching in the tight space and the light from Brock's cell phone made Cerb's eyes shine back at him. "Cerb, need you to move so I can get him out."

As if Cerb understood English, the pup shifted and leapt out of the tub, but he remained close … watching.

"Give me a towel," Sonny requested. When Brock tossed him one, Sonny lay it over Clay, as he moved in closer and wrapped his arms around his trembling little brother. Sonny's heart was breaking, but he kept his voice smooth and calm. "I'm here. You're safe with me. Shhh. You're alright. Safe. Sonny's going to protect you."

Clay's screams turned to racking sobs. He didn't resist when he was lifted by strong arms, moved, laid on something soft, and wrapped up. The arms of his brother encircled him again and Clay rested his head on Sonny's chest as sobs gave way to whimpers.

Trent knelt after Sonny settled a comforter wrapped Clay in his embrace and continued to murmur reassurances that he was safe. He noted the bump on Clay's forehead and his rapid pulse. The screaming worried him, but he didn't believe a physical injury to be the cause.

Brock rubbed Cerb down with one of the towels as he whispered, "Should I go call Jason?"

"Not yet." Sonny ran a hand towel over Clay's dripping locks.

The electricity coming back on bathed the room in bright light, causing Clay to squeeze his eyes shut. "Off. Please. Off."

Brock switched the lights off.

"Sonny, that really you?"

"Yeah, got back after you went to bed." Sonny dropped the damp towel and returned his arm around Clay who still shivered uncontrollably. "I'm here."

"I'm cold."

"I know. Wanna tell me why you were taking an ice shower in a thunderstorm?"

"Didn't mean to."

"Okay. Well, you want to stay here a bit longer or are you ready to go to your room and get dressed in something warm and dry?" Sonny decided to address practical matters first. The kid was freezing and the comforter Trent produced almost out of thin air was now damp so wouldn't provide warmth much longer.

"Legs shaking too much."

"No worries. I'll be your legs for now. Hang on." With assistance from Trent and Brock, Sonny managed to stand while holding Clay in his arms. Cerb led the way out of the bathroom with the guys following.

* * *

 _ **Trent's Home – Guest Room**_

Since he trembled too much to manage, Clay allowed Brock and Sonny to help him dress in a pair of sweats and thick, wooly socks while Trent remade his bed with clean dry sheets and then insisted on checking his pupillary responses since he whacked his head twice. Sonny sat beside him once he was settled under three blankets. Brock took a seat on the floor and Trent on the rolling chair.

Clay lowered his eyes as Dawn appeared with four mugs of hot chocolate, and was glad she didn't speak or stay. He stared at his cocoa for several minutes as the only sound in the room was the pounding rain pelting the window and roof. Clay took a sip and let the warm liquid linger in his mouth before swallowing.

He noted Cerb's head resting on the edge of the bed and reached out to scratch behind his ears. His tremors began to ebb with the silent support and the warmth around him. Part of him wanted to tell them sorry for waking them, but by now he understood his brothers would always be there for him, no matter what.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Clay lifted his eyes and turned to Sonny. "I know now."

"Know what?"

"Why I'm a fucking mess."

"Okay. Anything we can do to help?"

"No. I got to figure this out on my own."

Trent tensed. They all suspected Clay might've experienced more than his mind allowed him to recall, and if the screaming was any indication, those memories resurfaced tonight.

"Whatever it is … you don't have to go it alone." Sonny put his arm over Clay's shoulders and drew him closer, sensing his brother needed the connection now more than ever.

"I don't … I can't …" Clay choked up.

"Nothing you say will change the fact you're our brother. Nothing." Brock steeled himself for what he believed happened to Clay.

"Some things are too …" Clay's throat tightened preventing him from speaking as he fought a prickle of tears.

"Remember the first night in the hospital when you tumbled out of bed?" Sonny said in a soft tone.

"Sort of."

"I think you left off one word."

"Huh?" Clay didn't follow what Sonny meant.

Sonny pulled Clay closer still, unsure if this was the right way to go about this or not. He was winging it, but he wanted to help Clay so pressed onward. "It's okay. If what I think happened actually occurred, it doesn't change how we view you one damned bit. It is no different in our eyes as when you got hooked, fire-cupped, electrocuted, or any of the shit you've been through which was out of your control. Someone hurt you … and that pisses us off. But I think it might be helpful for you to give voice to what happened. Perhaps it is the first step in healing."

Tears dripped from Clay's eyes. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might escape his chest. Hot bile rose in his throat and he chugged some hot chocolate to get rid of the acid burn. Clay began to review all his conversations with Dr. Upchurch, all the self-introspection, and he came to realize he needed to acknowledge the sexual assault as frankly as he did every other assault on his person.

Putting his trust in Sonny's words, Clay quietly said, "I was raped. I don't know by who … one of the guards. He came when the others were out of the room, and he raped me."

Sonny sat his mug down and wrapped his other arm around Clay. "The son-of-a-bitch who hurt you is likely dead. No one except Tabasi survived. But I'll kill him too if you want."

"No. Don't want you in prison." Fatigue washed through Clay leaving him sagging against Sonny again.

Trent fought the rage brewing inside and wondered how Sonny remained so calm. He wanted to go schwack Tabasi this instant because if the man had not kidnapped Clay in the first place, his brother would not have been subjected to not only the rape but the other injuries too. Clamping down on his fury, Trent said, "Anything you need, you tell us. You can stay here as long as you want."

"You've told us, do you plan on telling Jason and Ray?" Brock hoped the answer would be yes because something this big shouldn't be withheld from One and Two.

"Tomorrow. I'm tired."

"Okay. Dawn's making waffles tomorrow. I'll contact Ray and Jason after breakfast." Trent stood and retrieved Clay cup and Sonny's too.

Brock rose and said, "Sonny, I'll grab your bedding for you."

Sonny gave Brock a slight nod. When they were alone, Sonny asked, "Want to lie down now?"

"No."

"Want me to stay right where I am?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, brother. Whatever you need. I'm here. Blackburn's guaranteed us three weeks downtime."

"Why were you gone so long?" Clay yawned after asking and shifted so his head lay across Sonny's lap.

"Tell you all about it tomorrow. Sleep now."

Brock slipped in the room again and positioned a pillow for Sonny, but if his teammate stayed that way for the rest of the night, he would have a crick in his neck … a price he or any of the others would be willing to pay to help Clay.

As the rain pitter-pattered outside and Clay slumbered in his lap, Sonny allowed tears to fall as his heart cracked for Clay. If he could go back and kill every fucking person in that compound again, he would. And he wanted to snap Tabasi's neck with his bare hands. No one hurt his little brother and got away with it.

Eventually, thoughts of revenge gave way to ones of awe. The trust Clay showed in them tonight astounded him. If the roles had been reversed, Sonny was not sure if he could ever admit out loud to anyone he had been raped. Though Sonny didn't delude himself, one stormy night of realization and telling them what happened wouldn't fix everything. Clay would need time to recover, more time than they previously expected. Perhaps Dr. Upchurch was a blessing in disguise because when it came to something like this, Clay needed an expert to help him weather the emotional storm which was unleashed tonight.

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Path to Recovery**

 _ **Ten Weeks Later – Bravo Equipment Cages**_

Clay stood at the table in the center of the room, cleaning his weapon along with Sonny and Ray. The three weeks Sonny said Bravo was promised as downtime stretched into ten weeks so far. Blackburn wouldn't or couldn't explain why Bravo was not tagged for spin-ups, but Clay suspected it might be one of two things or perhaps a combination of both.

Though he had no proof she was responsible, Clay believed Dr. Upchurch might've played a role in the team's extended time in stand-down mode. Veronica told him at the beginning of his therapy that she reported directly to Admiral Droit about his progress. He suspected her updates to the admiral possibly included notations about needing his teammates nearby as part of his recovery.

The second and more likely reason was what happened during the mission in Uruguay … the one that ended up extending beyond a few days. When he woke the morning after his meltdown in the shower, Clay was surprised when Sonny told him Blackburn ordered the entire team to the base for a meeting to discuss an important matter.

At first, he worried Trent or Brock told Jason he'd been raped while held by Tabasi, and Jason, in turn, told Blackburn, but that wasn't the topic. In an unprecedented move, the lieutenant commander included him, Brock, and Trent in the debrief of the Uruguay op.

He learned Senator Usher extended his stay to meet with several business leaders after the economic summit. During a reception at the final affair, gunmen opened fire on the crowd. What initially appeared to be an attack on the Utah senator, turned out to be much more insidious … someone put a hit out on Bravo. Mandy believed IIB to be behind it, though she had not been able to connect the dots.

At the event, both Ray and Jason took several hits to their vests, and Sonny received a grazed bicep. While Jason and Ray lay incapacitated on the ground, struggling to draw breaths after being hit, Sonny and Full Metal emptied their mags protecting them, Usher, Ambassador Yancy, and several others from five shooters.

As Sonny started to swap mags, he spotted Wayne Wickingham, the senator's top aide, point a pistol at Jason's head. Sonny's spectacular tackle prevented Jason's death, but Wickingham's head smacked the concrete so hard it fractured his skull. The man was still in a coma and not expected to regain consciousness, which made it difficult to trace who wanted Bravo Team dead.

They only knew Bravo was the intended target because one of the hitmen lived long enough to reveal that piece, but died before divulging who hired them. The dead men were members of a local, small-scale drug-trafficking gang with no discernable ties to IIB, but with Clay's abduction in Switzerland, Mandy believed the incidents were connected, and she set out to find proof.

Whatever the reason, he was grateful to have his brothers around in the last two months. He continued therapy sessions with the psychologist weekly after becoming aware of what happened to him while being held at Tabasi's compound. Some days he thought he would go crazy … that he was crazy … when things would spiral out of control for no apparent reason.

Perhaps the hardest thing he'd done was reveal to Jason that he'd been raped. Clay never wanted to cause Jason harm … but the disclosure hit Jace like a semi, virtually picking him up, throwing him across the room, and dumping him in a boneless heap. Or at least the emotions he witnessed in Jason's expression felt like that is what occurred. Clay couldn't and wouldn't ever blame Jason for what happened to him … but Jason unjustly blamed himself.

Interestingly, Jason and the other guys agreed to attend a few therapy sessions with him. Clay's motive was twofold. First, make sure they didn't hold themselves responsible for the actions of a sicko … none of this was their fault. Second, Dr. Upchurch suggested if his brothers understood his path to recovery would be a series of peaks and valleys, they'd be able to help him scale the mountains after taking a tumble.

By his choice, Blackburn was made aware of the assault, but Clay didn't want anyone else to know … not Lisa, not Mandy, not Naima, not any of their girlfriends, and damn-well not either Jason's or Ray's kids. Though he accepted it was out of his control, he didn't want to deal with the stigma of rape or be seen as a lesser man in any of their eyes. Try as he might, a tiny part of him still struggled with the idea that he should've been able to stop it or escape before it happened.

For the most part, he was on an even-keel emotionally now. The unexpected shakes had lessened in the first few weeks. He hadn't had an episode of them for the past eighteen days, which Dr. Upchurch viewed as progress.

He regained his weight and then some … mostly muscle mass, because he threw himself into working out when rage overtook him. The bouts of unbridled anger slowly diminished over time, but they still caught him unawares occasionally. Veronica reassured him his aversion to touch, and his outbursts were a normal part of healing, and each person copes with trauma differently.

She outlined and described in general terms the phases he might go through but stressed they were only guidelines, and his path to recovery may move backwards, forwards, or between phases as he worked through his trauma. As a SEAL whose life and the lives of his teammates depended on him being rock-solid, this didn't give him any warm fuzzies and made him question whether he would ever be fit for duty again. So when at his lowest points, he turned to his brothers … drawing on their strength when his was depleted, and clinging to their optimism when filled with negative thoughts.

Their unconditional support, unshakable grip, and unwavering belief he would return to Bravo whole and healthy made Adam's words come to life … team was the only family he needed. With them at his side, with their hands on his back, both literally and figuratively, he overcame what initially appeared to be insurmountable obstacles.

The door opening pulled Clay from his musings, and he peered at Jason as his team leader strode toward the table. He had to tamp down on the sense of foreboding based on Jason's expression.

"Blackburn wants us all in the briefing room in ten minutes." His gaze remained on Clay. The kid had been back on base and training with them for the past four weeks, though he had not received clearance to operate with them should they be spun-up.

Physically, Bravo Six was on par, and perhaps in better shape than ever before, but he still needed time to get his head on straight. Hell, they all needed time to wrap their heads around and come to terms with what the kid endured.

There were moments in the day when he would catch a glimpse of Clay's vulnerability, and every fiber in his body wanted to slaughter whoever raped his kid. If only they had a clue who did it, and if the asshole died in the raid on Tabasi's compound. Though they believed everyone except Tabasi had been killed, someone had either survived or been nearby to blow up the complex and douse all the bodies with an accelerant, so only crispy critters and ash remained, thus removing their ability to identify the dead.

As Ray and Sonny began to reassemble their clean weapons, Jason noted Clay's shoulders sag ever so slightly as he reached for Brock's weapon, preparing to clean it for their dog handler. Clay must've believed his use of 'all' in his statement didn't include him. "You too, Spenser."

"Me? Why?" Clay stared at Jason.

"Guess we'll find out in ten. Sonny, Clay, wrap things up here. Ray come with me." Jason pivoted and strode out of the room with Ray on his heels.

* * *

 _ **Hallway**_

Jason halted near the team room and turned to face Ray. His hand went to the back of his neck, and he squeezed as tension in his body increased.

"What's got you worried, brother?"

"The kid."

"Go on."

"We're probably getting spun-up. He hasn't been alone since we got him back. Not sure what us leaving is gonna do to him … if it will set him back."

Ray nodded. "The fact we've been down for ten weeks, with or without a target on our backs, is unprecedented. The cake-eaters are probably breathing fire down on Blackburn. Clay appears to be in a stable place … no panic attacks in almost three weeks."

Blowing out a long breath, formed from frustration and unrelenting worry, Jason said, "When you suggested we draft him … I never—"

A chuckle emitted before Ray interrupted Jason, "You never expected to view him as a son."

Jason only nodded. A fact Clay Spenser had wormed his way into his heart in a manner no other teammate ever had was not lost on him. It created many dilemmas for him. There were rules about being in command of your family … and damned good reasons for them. But on the other hand, teams often created stronger bonds with their brothers than with their biological families.

They shared a common bond forged under fire when their very lives depended on one another … they saw and experienced things together that wives and children would never see or understand … which was one of the reasons they did what they did … they protected their country and those they loved from the horrors of war.

Ray watched the kaleidoscope of emotions swirl in Jason's eyes. Most people wouldn't notice, but he knew his brother better than anyone on this earth. "What else is going on in your head, Jace?"

"If there is a target on Bravo, and we leave … Clay will be here alone without protection. I don't think I can do that, and I'm not sure what I'm going to do, because he is still classified as inactive. I can't bark and have him activated to go with us … and I'm not certain that would be in his best interests even if I could."

It was Ray's turn to nod. He understood the untenable position Jason was in. "Perhaps we should find out why Blackburn called the meeting before you spend more time swirling. Once we know, we'll work the problem as a team, as we've done for the past ten weeks. We'll figure out a solution that keeps Clay safe and gives you peace of mind so you can focus."

Jason dropped his hand and grinned. "There's a reason you are my number two."

A snort came from Ray as he smiled. "I'm good at sorting out your shit." He spotted Sonny and Clay striding towards them. "Let's go." He pulled out his cell phone and deposited it in the cubby then opened the door.

* * *

 _ **Bravo Team Room**_

As he entered, Ray's mind whirled on Jason's concerns, even though he told Jace they would deal with it after the briefing. He shared the same worries. Clay made significant strides in his recovery, but the fact Sonny still slept on Clay's couch every night didn't bode well for Spenser spending time alone.

He took his usual seat, noting Brock, Trent, and Full Metal were already around the table. When Clay and Sonny entered, Cerb raced up to the kid, and Ray grinned as the dog weaved around Clay's legs in greeting. Cerb had been instrumental in Clay's recovery … when the pup retired from active service, he could have a second career as a therapy dog.

As the guys settled in, the door opened again, and Blackburn, Davis, and Ellis strode in. Mandy's expressions told him she must've figured something out … perhaps she pieced together who wanted them dead. He hoped so. He was ready to bring them in or send them to their maker if they resisted … and a part of him wanted the assholes to resist.

"Gentlemen, you are being spun-up. Ms. Ellis, the floor is yours." Blackburn moved to the side of the room and leaned against the edge of one of the desks. He flicked a gaze to Spenser, hoping to gauge his reaction to the news, but all he noted was a flat expression.

Clay's insides churned. Bravo would be leaving, and he would be on his own for the first time in over three months. He kept all emotion from his face, but his right fist clenched as he gave himself a silent pep talk. _You can do this. You're a SEAL for god's sake … not a child. They need to do their job, not babysit you._

As Mandy plugged in a laptop, Clay's internal dialog changed. _Why am I in the mission briefing? Am I going? Why? I'm not cleared yet._ His gaze moved to Blackburn, searching for answers but finding none.

Whatever Mandy was saying became nothing more than buzzing in his ears as he shifted his gaze to the screen at the front, and his eyes focused on the man displayed. Without warning, Clay's stomach flipped, and he spewed his lunch on the table.

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Connecting the Dots**

 _ **Bravo Team Room**_

Reactions were swift and varied as Clay hurled. Jason and Ray, directly across from him and in the path of the projectile vomit, rapidly pushed their chairs back. Sonny and Trent, who flanked Clay on either side, scooted away too, but Trent turned to reach for a trashcan, and Sonny moved back closer to Clay after his initial reaction. Brock shot out of his seat and rushed to the kitchenette to grab paper towels.

Mandy grimaced and put a hand to her stomach. Lisa went to the fridge to grab a water bottle for Clay to rinse his mouth. Full Metal, who was not in jeopardy of being covered in puke, remained in place and crossed his arms, wondering if the kid got a case of food poisoning from the chicken sandwich he ate for lunch.

Eric, who had been watching Clay up to the point he began retching, shifted his gaze to the photo on the screen … he would bet all he owned Clay reacted to the image. The question was … why? A gut-wrenching notion came to him as he moved close to Jason and whispered, "I'm going to clear the room of everyone except Bravo. Give Clay a moment to compose himself, but ask him if he knows Ulker Volkan. Call me when you're ready to resume."

Jason's eyes shot to the image and then back to Clay. "You think?"

"Maybe. Fits his reaction." Eric turned and strode to Mandy. "Let's give the team time to get things cleaned up before we continue."

Aware no one would be willing to sit through briefing until Clay was sorted out, Mandy nodded and headed to the door.

* * *

 _ **Hallway**_

Lisa, Full Metal, and Eric joined Mandy in the hall a few moments later, and Lisa asked, "Should I contact Dr. Irving?"

"No, Trent will send for him if necessary." Eric turned to Full Metal. "Since we have a few minutes, we should head to my office to finalize your transfer paperwork. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yeah. It's time. Derek's worked his ass off, and he's more than ready for the responsibility of leading Alpha Team, but I'm not quite ready to leave DEVGRU." Full Metal glanced back at the door as Mandy and Lisa started down the hall towards the intel office. "What's up? Why did you clear the room of everyone but Bravo?"

Eric sighed. "You'll need to ask Jason."

"Something to do with the kid?" When Eric didn't respond, Full Metal got his answer. He'd seen how Bravo circled wagons around Clay. Jason operated much like he did, though Jace managed to create something unique with his team, which is one reason he looked forward to joining Bravo for the remainder of his career.

He could stay with Alpha and lead them a few more years, but he wasn't lying when he told Blackburn that Derek earned the right to lead the team. His choices of what to do were limited after handing over the reins to Derek. He could become an instructor at BUDS or for Green Team, but he wasn't ready to leave the field.

Jason offered him a chance to transfer to Bravo, and he joked he'd only do it if they continued to call him Alpha One because he refused to become Bravo Seven. Jason surprised him and agreed, saying he would never remember to call him Bravo Seven anyway … he would always be Alpha One or Full Metal. He grinned. "I'm ready to make it official."

* * *

 _ **Bravo Team Room**_

Having insisted on cleaning up his mess and quite frankly not getting any pushback from the guys, Clay now sat in his chair, sipping Gatorade and staring at the face of the man who raped him. He appreciated his brothers gave him a bit of space and an opportunity to gather himself after his visceral reaction.

Jason wanted to give Clay more time, but it had already been thirty minutes, and he had no clue how urgent this briefing was, so he needed to broach the elephant in the room. He searched for a way to ask the delicate question, but their resident cowboy used his brand of humor, eliminating the need.

"Woo wee, it stinks in here," Sonny sprayed air freshener around the room before plopping into his chair beside Clay and pinning him with an assessing gaze. "So, Upchucky Cheese, what made you hurl your lunch at Jace and Ray?"

Clay cut to the chase, inclining his head to the screen. "Him."

Sonny turned to view the image. "He's one ugly dude, but what specifically about him?"

"Engage your brain, Sonny," Ray said as he put two and two together.

Sonny's gaze narrowed on the face before turning back to Clay. "No?"

"Yes." Clay sighed.

Sonny's fist clenched as rage surged in him. "He's a fucking dead man. I don't care if Mandy wants him alive or not. His brains are gonna be painting the ground the moment I lay eyes on him."

Clay's voice came out soft as he focused on Jason, "Who is he? I mean, what is his name, and why does Mandy want him?"

Realizing Clay must not have heard the little bit Mandy shared, Jason said, "His name is Ulker Volkan, and she believes he was involved in your abduction and targeting us in Uruguay. She didn't convey much else before … before we took a break."

Processing the information, Clay nodded. "I'm ready for them to come back in, but I don't want Davis, Ellis, or Full Metal to know why I threw up."

"You ate something that didn't sit well," Trent offered.

"The chicken smelled off to me," Brock added to the ruse.

Jason picked up the landline and dialed Blackburn's office. He notified him of what caused Clay to become sick and told him to keep it private. Before the short call ended, Blackburn indicated the four would return in about five minutes.

"I want to go if we are going after Volkan." Clay put his beverage on the table and met Jason's gaze.

"I'm not—"

Clay cut Jason off, "Let me rephrase … I need to go. That bastard took something from me, and bringing him in will help me get it back. I won't let you down. My head will be in the game. If I don't go … he wins, and I might never …" Clay trailed off before steely-resolve filled him, and he declared, "I. Need. To. Go."

Sonny's hand clamped on Clay's shoulder. "I vote, he goes."

"Me too," Brock offered.

Trent nodded. "Physically, he is capable."

Jason glanced at Ray, hoping for a less reactive response.

Taking a moment to study each of his teammates, Ray's eyes finished and stayed on Clay. "We'd do anything for you, brother. You are aware of that, right?"

"Yes." Clay prepared himself for Ray's 'but,' and to contradict him, coming up with reasons they should let him do this.

Ray switched his gaze to Jason. "Clay's right. He needs to come to regain the power that asshole took from him."

Jason chuckled. "If you all would've let me finish, I was going to say, I'm not sure Blackburn will go for it, but I planned to push for Clay to be on this mission."

He met Clay's blue eyes. If he were in Clay's position, he would want, no, need to do this too. Though he had concerns about Clay's overall readiness, the men in this room would have the kid's back. More importantly … the kid never let them down.

"Thanks, Jace." Clay reached for the Gatorade again.

The team sat in silence until the others returned. Mandy went to the front and started her briefing from the beginning, pretending Clay had not been sick. "This is Ulker Volkan." She pointed at the man before clicking a remote and displaying multiple images.

"He appears in each one of these photos. The first one I obtained from the Zürich Stadelhofen. It was taken the day before Clay was abducted." Using the laser pointer, she moved to the images as she spoke. "He's in the footage Trip provided me from the Sofia train station. Here he is again in Istanbul.

"At no time is he seen interacting with Tabasi, so he didn't stand out from the crowd. However, after reviewing all the available video from Uruguay, he shows up at the embassy." She switched to a new image. "This is a still from the embassy's security tapes."

"What the fuck? That's Wickingham with him." Sonny sat forward and popped a toothpick into his mouth.

"Yes." She pulled up a video and let it play. The two men engaged in conversation for several minutes, though without audio, they didn't know what was said. Then Volkan passed Wickingham a package. "I can't be certain, but I believe Volkan gave him the gun he used when he tried to kill Jason. You'll note the timestamp is only fifteen minutes before the group left for the event. Wickingham never went back inside, so he wasn't subjected to the scanner which would've detected the weapon."

Jason nodded. "Explains how he had a gun. What made you go looking for him in the footage from Clay's abduction?"

"Wasn't me." She turned to look at Lisa and grinned.

Lisa stepped forward. "When Mandy shared the image with me, his face seemed familiar. It took me a bit to recall where I'd seen him before. I found the picture of him before the avalanche and asked Lester to write a program to search for his face in all the footage Mandy obtained from the train stations. What you are seeing is the result of teamwork.

"Once we validated he was in each of those places, well, it was a matter of trying to track down his name. Which wasn't easy because he used various passports in his travels." Lisa nodded to Mandy, and the monitor displayed five passports, all with different names, but the likeness of the man was unmistakable.

Taking over again, Mandy explained, "Though he's used multiple aliases, with the help of Trip, my MI6 contact, we determined his real name is Ulker Volkan. He is the son of Zorlu Volkran, a businessman in Uzbekistan who died twenty years ago. MI6 believed Zorlu had ties with the Taliban and suspected him of laundering money for them. At the time of his father's death, Ulker was attending university in London.

"According to Trip, Ulker was deported after being identified as the prime suspect in a series of brutal sexual assaults on campus. They didn't have definitive proof to convict him because the one male who was able to describe his attacker committed suicide before they could do a line up with Ulker.

"However, given the uncanny resemblance of the sketch to Ulker, his inability to provide viable alibis on the nights of the assaults, the authorities were certain he was the culprit and used his father's link with the Taliban to send him packing. Coincidentally, the attacks ceased once he was shipped home to Uzbekistan."

Clay swallowed hot bile that crept up his throat at that revelation. The sicko had a history of rape. He wasn't the first victim. He silently vowed the bastard wouldn't debase anyone else.

Eric glanced at Clay. He hadn't known this piece of the puzzle when Mandy said she found the man responsible for the hit on Bravo. Though not cleared to operate, he had initially devised a plan to bring Clay along and keep him in HAVOC in case the team needed an interpreter. But now knowing this man raped Clay, Eric questioned whether he made the wrong call including Clay in the briefing. He needed to speak to Jason before he made a decision. He tuned back into Mandy's presentation.

"After that Ulker falls off the grid, until now. I took his photo with me to Gmito and showed it to Tabasi. He seemed surprised both by seeing Ulker's face and the pictures of his blown-up compound. Apparently, the past few months being imprisoned have had an impact on Tabasi, and after some convincing, he provided some useful details."

The team listened to the ins and outs as Mandy connected the dots of a complicated network of events that tied Ulker to the IIB. The smoking gun came in the form of financial transactions uncovered where Ulker acted as an intermediary between Wickingham and an unknown IIB leader. Their mission was to snatch Ulker so Mandy could interrogate him to determine the mastermind behind the hit on Bravo, and potentially bring down the IIB once and for all.

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Face Everything and Rise**

 _ **Bravo Plane**_

Lisa approached Clay, who was busy hanging his hammock and suppressed her smile. "Hey, straps are in the back … only operators can hang hammocks."

Flashing her a grin and chuckling, Clay responded, "I'm a member of Bravo."

"But you're a strap for this mission," she teased, happy to have him back in the saddle … even though he would remain in HAVOC to act as an interpreter for this op if the need arose. Though not aware of all his challenges, his recovery had been markedly slower than usual after the abduction. She had a suspicion of what might've happened to him, but she would never voice it because quite frankly, it was none of her business, and it didn't change how she felt about Clay.

Clay leaned close to Lisa and whispered, "We'll see about that."

Her turn to laugh, Lisa envisioned Clay sneaking off to join the others. He could be mischievous at times … more so than even Sonny. She handed him a little baggie with two pills and a water bottle. "Seconal … Trent approved."

"Thanks." Clay shoved the pills in his pocket. He was exhausted, so didn't think he would need the sleep-aid. Twisting off the cap of the bottle, Clay chugged half, then recapped it and placed it on a cargo box within reach the hammock.

"Get some sleep." Lisa pivoted and strode back to her seat, giving Trent a slight nod on the way.

Clay crawled into the swinging bed and got himself comfortable. This was his safe place, surrounded by his brothers and the people who mattered most in his life. He shut his eyes, allowing his body to wind down as his mind drifted.

Convincing Blackburn to allow him to come on this mission had been no easy feat, but Jason stood firmly in his corner, as did Ray, Sonny, Trent, Brock, and even Full Metal. When it appeared Blackburn's final answer would be no, Clay called Dr. Upchurch. It was time to use his ace in the hole.

He had a private, thirty-minute conversation with her, where he was brutally honest about his mindset and the goal of their mission, without divulging top-secret details. Fifteen minutes later, Blackburn received a call, and though the lieutenant commander didn't appear happy after it ended, he told the team Spenser would be going with them.

It was a mad rush to gather their gear, and although Clay could tell Jason wanted to talk to him, they didn't have time. He figured Jason would corner him on the plane sometime before they landed in Afghanistan to have a chat, but Jason ordered him to hit the hay as soon as they were airborne.

Though he wanted to protest, he didn't because he needed to be in the best possible shape and fully rested before the mission, especially if his plan to go with them was going to succeed. As plans go, it wasn't much, certainly not as involved as the one to snag the HVT, but it would be sufficient … he hoped.

Clay drifted off to sleep with Dr. Upchurch's words running through his head. _"FEAR has two meanings. Forget Everything And Run, or Face Everything And Rise. The choice is yours."_ He was a SEAL, a damned-good one, so his only option was the latter.

* * *

 _ **Bagram Air Base – TOC**_

The oppressive late afternoon heat bore down on everyone as they gathered in the tactical operations center in the Special Forces compound. The air conditioning flow had been mostly directed at the computer equipment, leaving the area around the briefing table bereft of coolness.

Clay stared at the map laid out on the table as he listened to updated intel on Ulker Volkan's whereabouts. Mid-flight, Mandy had received details he had moved locations, which nixed the original plans. Ulker fled the village of Qarchi Gak in the Balkh Province in northern Afghanistan and was now approximately twenty-four miles away in Uzbekistan.

The latest report put him in the remote village of Vandob in the Airibaba mountains. This turn of events would work in Clay's favor. Comms would be spotty in the mountain range, so having an interpreter with the team would be the best option.

As they discussed and reviewed infil and exfil possibilities, Clay slipped into his accustomed role, offering his opinions and other options. With the give and take natural among men used to working together, Clay almost didn't catch when Jason said, "Ray, you and Brock will come in from the south. Full Metal and Trent the east. Clay will stay with Sonny and me as we breach from the west."

"Spenser's supposed to remain in ops," Blackburn stated.

Jason rose to his full height and faced the lieutenant commander, ready to go to bat for Clay, having found a reasonable loophole to make it happen. "He was cleared to be our interpreter. We need his language skills. We can't count on comms in those mountains."

"Jace—" Eric began, only to be cut off by the base commander who outranked him and didn't have a clue about the situation.

"Spenser is a member of Bravo. He appears fit. This needs to be executed with zero footprint since we don't have the authority to be operating in Uzbekistan … which means having someone who speaks the local language is essential to avoid civilian casualties. If Master Chief Hayes is satisfied Spenser's good to go, then I support his decision."

Sonny patted Clay on the back and leaned in close to whisper, "Sneaky Pete, you won't have to enact your plan to join us now."

Clay scrunched his brows. "How'd…"

Tapping Clay's forehead, Sonny grinned. "I know what's in that head of yours … don't forget I'm the one who trained you up in the finer points."

Clay grinned and didn't contradict Sonny, because in this case, he was right. He planned to use a page from Sonny Quinn's playbook to act first and ask forgiveness later.

Outranked, out-voted, Eric's eyes landed on Clay and hoped like hell Jason knew what he was doing. They needed Volkan alive … many lives depended on mining the man for information on the IIB.

* * *

 _ **Airibaba Mountains Near Vandob**_

After the HAHO jump and a short hike in the dead of night, Bravo dug in and set up their blind. They must obtain visual confirmation Ulker was onsite before they went into the small village. Clay ended up undercover with Jason … knowing his master chief, likely by design and not accidental.

Jason waited until he and Clay were the ones taking watch before he quietly said, "I'm putting my trust in you. If you have any qualms about your ability to stay on task, speak up now, and I'll make adjustments."

As he met Jason's assessing gaze, Clay drew in a breath. Honesty would be his only path forward because once trust was broken, it could never be restored. "I admit seeing Volkan impacted me more than I would've wished. But I've had ten weeks of conversations with Dr. Upchurch, and she's helped me come to terms and work through a lot of feelings."

He chuckled. "We're not the most touchy-feely guys, so you know talking about that stuff isn't easy. I've come to accept that attack was more about asserting power over me and wanting to cause pain than anything sexual.

"In many ways, it is no different than being hooked and used as a pinata in Mexico, or stabbed, electrocuted, and branded with a hot iron poker by Carlson in Ecuador."

Jason interrupted, "Really?"

"Yeah. In each instance, a depraved son-of-a-bitch tried his best to hurt me to prove he was superior or just because he got jollies by inflicting pain. Ulker is nothing more than a degenerate lowlife who needs to be stopped."

"I'd say he is more … he hurt you. I'm not okay with that."

"And he'll pay by being locked up … but some good can come out of this if Mandy can get him to talk. There is the bigger picture to consider, and that is what I'm focusing on. That is how I'll be able to be in the same room with him and not put a bullet between his eyes. I'm a better man than him, and I want to look him in the eye, so he knows he didn't break me."

Pride welled up in Jason as he studied Clay's determined features. The young rookie had grown and matured despite all the shit he went through. Ray had been right to draft Clay, and he firmly believed one day Spenser would lead Bravo. "You are one of the best men I know, and I'm proud to call you brother."

Warmth spread through Clay at Jason's words. "Team's the only family I need," Clay softly uttered as he refocused on the scope.

Jason nodded, shifted a little to find a more comfortable position on the ground, and smiled. This kid got under his skin as no other teammate ever had, and Clay would always be special … more than a brother … a son.

* * *

 _ **Bagram Air Base – TOC**_

"Passing McQueen. Good Copy, Bravo One." Eric marked off the infil step on the whiteboard. So far, things had gone off without a hitch, but that was no guarantee the shit wouldn't hit the fan.

Mandy paced, her hands continually going up to her hair to push it back. She was still not sure it had been smart for Clay to go with the team, but the base commander made the call. If things went off the rails and something happened to the guys, Clay especially … if this turned out to be another trap … she didn't know if she could live with herself.

"Relax," Lisa said as she handed Mandy a water bottle.

"Usually, that is my advice to you." Mandy pressed the cool bottle to her flushed cheeks as Lisa only grinned and went back to the ISR feed.

Mandy still found this room unbearably hot though it was nine at night. The team moved in earlier than they would normally, but they had a twenty-four-mile hike through the Airibaba foothills and desert of Uzbekistan to the Afghan border after they snagged the HVT.

They needed to cross the border before daylight to avoid an international incident. A unit of Marines would be waiting for them on the banks of the Ama Darya river on the Afghanistan side to shuttle them across to where helos would be waiting to transport them back to Bagram. The potential for failure was high, which is why Mandy continued to pace.

* * *

 _ **Vandob – Target House**_

As Bravo breached the front, back, and side entries at the same time, screams rent the air from children in the front room. Clay used the local dialect to calm the women, ordering them to quiet and hold onto the kids. None of the guys liked aiming weapons at non-combatants, and though the goal was to snag Ulker alive, they hoped none of the people tried anything stupid and caused them to fire at them.

Ray and Brock joined them, bringing two women, and remained to keep the frightened women, children, and elderly men in place while Jason, Sonny, and Clay moved up the stairs, and Full Metal and Trent kept watch at the doorways for any approaching enemy combatants.

At the top of the stairwell, the trio went down the hall. The first two rooms were empty, and the third contained a young woman with an infant. Clay told her to stay put, and she and her baby would be safe. He asked if she knew where Ulker was, and she spat on the floor then launched into a litany of curses about a man she despised, before telling them he would be in the last room.

Clay translated, and they closed the door before heading down the hall. As they positioned for a breach, Jason caught Clay's gaze. "You ready?"

"Yeah."

Sonny entered the room first, followed by Jason and then Clay. What they found turned their stomachs. Ulker faced them in the process of dressing, no shirt, and his pants at his knees. Tied to the bed lay a sobbing young man, no older than twenty. He was naked, a gag shoved in his mouth, and unmistakable signs he had just been brutally raped … the bloody evidence on his thighs and the sheets.

In a rage, Sonny wanted to swhack Ulker, but swung his rifle instead, hitting the rapist upside the head, knocking him flat on his back. He flipped him over with not a single care, wrenched his arms backward, and pulled the zip-cuffs tighter than he should, but not enough to cut off circulation, though he definitely wanted to. Sonny thought a zip-tie pulled as tight as possible around the man's cock would be fitting, but resisted the urge to do so.

As Jason stood guard at the door, Clay moved to the bound man, pulling out his blade and cutting the ropes. A hundred different emotions battled within him, but he pushed them down and spoke calmly to the terrified victim in the local language. He threw a blanket over him, providing him a bit of modesty.

Sonny was just yanking their HVT to his feet as Clay turned. He and Ulker came face to face, and the recognition lit in the sadist's eyes.

Realizing he was caught and they didn't intend to kill him, Ulker decided to taunt the blond. "You screamed like a baby. It was so much fun listening to you beg me to stop. You were a good fuck … a virgin. I like virgins."

Stunned, Clay watched as Ulker crumpled to the floor and spat out blood. His eyes tracked the trajectory of the punch that floored Ulker and found Jason rubbing his knuckles.

"Three, pull up the asshole's pants, and let's get the hell out of here." Jason pressed his comms and reported, "HAVOC, this is Bravo One, Jackpot. Moving to exfil with one HVT."

* * *

 _ **Bagram Air Base – TOC**_

"Good Copy. Path appears clear. We'll track you with ISR and alert you if any hostiles are in your area." Eric turned and grinned as Lisa marked off Jackpot.

Mandy smiled and sat, tired from constant pacing. "Now Volkan just needs to arrive here alive. We'll be one step closer to taking the IIB down."

"They'll bring him in alive." Eric slumped into a chair, the only one in the room aware that if Bravo planned to kill Ulker after what he did to Clay, they would've done it when they found him, and Jason wouldn't have radioed in they were exfiling with the HVT.

Silently he gave props to the professionalism of Bravo … and Clay Spenser especially. It had to be hard for the young man to be under orders to bring in the animal who debased him. Clay was definitely not unfit for duty. Eric was certain Clay would pass his psych eval, be given full clearance, and return to operating full time very soon.

* * *

 _ **Uzbekistan Desert – Nearing the Afghan Border**_

Clay held the rope tied to Ulker's wrists, pulling him along as he had most of the way on their trek. In a funny twist of fate, it turned out the HVT was safest with Clay leading him. Besides Sonny's gun-butt to the head, and Jason's punch, Ulker managed to have an accident while under the watchful eyes of each of the other members of Bravo.

As he trudged along, Clay thought back to their exit from the target house. Turned out, the people who lived there were happy to see Ulker leave. They even thanked them for coming. Although it was his maternal uncle's home, the elderly man had no love for his nephew and considered him an aberration, and black sheep of a peaceful and loving family.

Ulker had shown up with that poor young man in tow, seeking shelter for a few weeks. The only reason he was allowed to stay was he threatened to send men to burn their crops and rape their daughters. He terrorized his own family. So when they left, the women threw pots of urine on Ulker. Though fitting, it made for a stinking walk for the rest of them.

Full Metal initially held the lead on Ulker, and although at the time he was not aware of what Ulker did to Clay, he was pissed about him putting the hit on Bravo and supplying the gun to Wickingham that almost killed Jason. After Metal's oops, not-so-accidental stumble that sent Ulker plummeting down a steep ravine, and his comment, "No one would miss him, we could toss a bit of sand over him and leave him there for the vultures," Brock was tagged to take control of the prisoner.

About a half-hour later, they had just traipsed up another gorge, when Cerb darted in front of Ulker, his leash causing the HVT to get tangled up and fall, his knees taking the brunt of the impact on sharp rocks. Clay had overheard the quiet command Brock gave Cerb that initiated the incident, but he wouldn't tell a soul.

Next up was Trent. Several hours later, they stopped for a short break when Ulker complained about his feet. He only wore a pair of sandals, not suited for the rough terrain. Doing his due diligence, Trent checked the prisoner's feet and proceeded to pour alcohol on the open blisters in the name of disinfecting them.

Ulker screamed like a baby, which, if Clay was honest with himself, caused him to smirk … served the asshole right to feel a bit of pain after all he caused others. Trent did wrap Ulker's feet, he wasn't willing to go too far afield from proper care, but when they started again, Ray took charge of Ulker.

Clay believed Ray would be above seeking a bit of revenge, and he would've lost the bet if he had wagered. They made it to the sand dunes, about seven miles from their rendezvous location when Ulker started to get mouthy. Full Metal learned of what Clay suffered at the hands of Ulker when the animal began taunting him again.

If it hadn't been dark, Clay was sure he would've read murderous intent in Ray's eyes … as it was, his tone carried enough venom to make it clear he wanted to send this piece of shit straight to hell.

When Ray's knife unsheathed, Clay and the others were too far away to stop what they thought Ray planned to do. The blade moved dangerously close to Ulker's balls, and for an instant, Clay believed Ray would unman Ulker … turn him into a unic.

They all breathed a sigh of relief, not for Ulker but for Ray when Bravo Two cut a strip off Ulker's pants and shoved the urine-soaked cloth into the bastard's mouth to gag him. The relief stemmed from the fact that although they weren't above getting a small measure of vengeance, Ulker was not worth them risking their careers by reaching the standards of mistreating a prisoner.

And that is how Clay, the one most harmed by Ulker, ended up being the one in charge of him as they completed their trek. When they reached the Amu Darya river, he was glad to hand him over to one of the Marines who put a hood over Ulker's head after putting him in one of the boats.

As he climbed aboard the second boat, each one of Bravo gave him a pat on the back and told him he did good. Though the comment that meant the most to him came from Jason. He clapped a hand on his shoulder, captured and held his gaze, and said, "Son, you make me damned proud."

* * *

 _ **Bagram Air Base**_

Wearing a towel around his waist, Sonny sauntered into the temporary VIP quarters assigned to Bravo so they could shower and change before their long flight back to Virginia. With only one shower in the room, they drew lots. He was sixth, and Clay ended up getting the short straw, which meant he went last. "Hey, Pigpen, shower's free. Your turn now,"

"Don't need a shower."

"Kid, you reek." Trent tugged on clean pants.

"Yeah, you do." Brock pulled a t-shirt over his head, and when it popped through the hole, he added, "Even Cerb is avoiding you, and that's saying something."

"I'll wait until we get home." Clay shifted, sand chafing in uncomfortable places.

Ray observed him and moved closer, lowering his voice. "Clay, does this have anything to do with you know what?"

Clay scrunched his brows. "Huh?" Recognition lit his eyes; Ray was referring to facing down the man who raped him. "No. Not really."

Jason came forward, freshly dressed. "What does not really mean?"

The others circled him, prepared to help their little brother through whatever was bothering him. He had proven himself fit for duty, but they all believed the events would still haunt him for a while, and strange behaviors might crop up occasionally … like not wanting to shower.

Clay read the concern and sighed. "Remember the remote base camp in the Sahara Desert when we started hunting the IIB?"

"The one that blew up?" Sonny asked.

"Yeah. That one."

"What about it?" Jason took a seat on the bunk across from Clay.

Another sigh emitted from Clay. "This all … everything I've gone through started for want of a shower. So I'm just gonna suck it up and wait until I get home."

Sonny laughed as he grabbed Clay's arm. "Grab his feet … Simba's taking a bath whether he wants to or not."

The other's joined in, laughing and joking as brothers will do, not willing to let Clay wallow. They carried him to the showers, dumped him fully clothed, and turned on the spigot. Brock tossed him a bar of soap. Trent threw in a washcloth.

Then all six, Full Metal now included in the Bravo brotherhood, stood with their arms crossed, eyeing their little brother who looked like a sopping wet puppy staring open-mouthed at them with his curls dripping under the onslaught of the water.

Jason said, "Take your shower. We've got your back. We'll stand guard." He pivoted, so his back was to Clay, giving him privacy. The others followed suit, creating an impenetrable wall.

With a smile, a sense of belonging, and a desire to wash sand from places it should never be, Clay stood and began to strip. He recognized he would never truly be alone in this life. His brothers would always stand beside him, and with their unwavering trust and support, every time he got knocked down, he would face everything and rise.

.

* * *

 **AN:** Thus another AI story comes to a close. I hoped you enjoyed the lighthearted last section. Let me know what you thought ... love reading your comments.

Now off to keep working on BREAKPOINTS and BLOOD BONDS ... with any luck, one of them will be ready for publishing by mid-April. If you enjoy my writing, you can check out my website for more info: www. lauraactonauthor. com _(remove the spaces)_


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